What Little Femmes are Made Of
by Ivory Bangle
Summary: She didn't want to partner with him. He didn't want her help. But, when the rest of Team Prime is tangled up in a Decepticon trap, will he let her make a dire sacrifice to save his life?
1. Chapter 1

Arcee wanted to go for a ride. Primus, she wanted to go with Optimus and the team, but Ratchet had insisted he make her stay. She wasn't going to heal if she kept aggravating her injuries.

Decepticons had ran across her and Jack while they were out for a night drive in the cool autumn air. It had been a miracle they'd walked away with just the injuries they did. Arcee had torn up her shoulder, wrist, and elbow when she'd transformed as they'd began to roll in order to shield Jack from the impact and her weight. It had worked at least. Jack only had a broken ankle to show for it, and Arcee had only needed one good arm to beat the vehicon goons.

She hated being cooped up in the base. If she wasn't fighting or driving or just out, keeping her mind occupied in general, she was more aware of … them. Or more like aware of their absence, she guessed. The old feelings began to resurface of someone watching her or thinking she felt someone else's energy field in her room with her when she powered up from a recharge. They weren't bad feelings, but she would've been just fine without them. Optimus and Ratchet said they understood. Maybe they really thought they did, but they didn't. How could they? How could any of her team?

But, she didn't bring it up. Even when someone startled her from her thoughts as she stared at nothing in particular, she just said she was tired. The team didn't need a femme adding her drama to their troubles. So, she'd serve her sentence with Ratchet at base and get the frag out of here as soon as possible.

Poor Jack was just as confined to the base as her. She'd been surprised June had let him even talk to the Autobots on the phone after the accident, but his mother seemed to understand that it could have been a lot worse if not for Arcee's actions. So, while she worked her twelve hour shift at the hospital, she had entrusted Jack to Ratchet's supervision. Arcee knew Jack would have insisted he wasn't helpless or stupid enough to hurt himself, but why argue when he wanted to be with his friends anyway?

He was up on the couch, flipping through channels on the TV with his foot elevated on a crate in what Miko had called a space boot. Miko and Raf where engrossed in some sort of game. Arcee had been lead to believe that all human games were played on a monitor, but this one was played on a black and white board with different pieces. Both had been in deep thought for the better part of the day, and Miko's apparent skill at the game had surprised Raf and Jack.

"Check. Check. Check. And, check. Check again."

Raf lay one of his pieces on its side in surrender.

"Three out of five?" Miko offered hopefully.

"I don't know, Miko. I hadn't really planned on two games eating up a whole afternoon."

"Find us a timer online. We can do a lightning game. Two minutes each, winner takes the title."

"I think I'm going to take a break," Raf said apologetically.

"Jack?" She grinned at him. "You know you want to."

"Pass."

"Come one dude. Or do you not know how to play?"

"I know how," he defended. "Chess just … isn't my thing."

"You scared of getting beat by a girl?" she teased.

"No. I'm scared of getting beat by someone that could fail study hall," he explained, going back to channel surfing. "It might ruin my image."

"Dude. You wear the same clothes every day, and everyone at school's seen you sing and dance the KO Burger Birthday Song," she pointed out. "Your 'image' has nowhere to go but up."

"It's part of my job," he growled, not wanting to think about it. "And, you wear the same clothes too!"

"It's called fashion!" she explained. "What's your excuse? Mommy stop doing your laundry, and black's the only color that doesn't bleed?"

Jack scowled. "….. No!"

Arcee walked over to Ratchet with her data pad of notes on the system updates she'd been doing for him.

"Everything should be good to go. Need me to do anything else?"

The argument had evolved into a battle of teenage wills, and nothing was sacred. The remote, what game they wanted to play, how much of the couch the other was taking up, … The medic grumbled something under his breath.

"Babysit, maybe?" he suggested. "If I could just put them in stasis …"

"Hey Ratchet?" Raf climbed onto the railing that looked out over Ratchet's work area. "Do you think Optimus will be back in time for us to go to the drive-in like you said?"

The white mech paused and surprised Arcee by looking guilty for half a second. While Ratchet cared little for monster truck rallies and giant monster battles, he might admit - if pressed - that he didn't mind watching more intellectual horror movies with Raf. And tonight, there was a double feature at the drive-in featuring one of their preferred B-horror movie actors in "Re-Animator" and "From Beyond."

"I don't know, Raf. I'm sorry." He shrugged. "We'd have to park across the street anyway. No one's going to let a kid driving an ambulance into the drive-in, are they?"

"You could borrow Sadie," Arcee offered, smiling. "And, I could wait for Optimus to call."

"Sadie doesn't even have a face," Ratchet pointed out dryly.

Arcee scoffed. "People in Jasper see weirder slag than women in leather jumpsuits and helmets driving little boys around in ambulances. What do they care as long as you pay?"

"Well … maybe …" Ratchet struggled.

"Come on, Ratchet. Please?" Raf asked. "You never get out."

He huffed. "We'll see."

He would. Arcee knew it. She just wouldn't mention that Sadie frequently got hit on by unsavory types everywhere she stopped. It'd give the old mech an interesting story to tell and something fresh and new to complain about.

"Miko!" she scolded. "Give it a rest already. It's not a fair fight if Jack's injured."

Jack happened to be pinned under a couch cushion trying not to bang his leg and struggling for breath.

"That's just an act," Miko reasoned.

She was about to rescue her human companion when the commlink chimed, announcing an incoming call.

"It's got to be Optimus," Raf said hopefully. But, he was disappointed when Ratchet opened the commlink and Wheeljack's mug shot appeared on the screen.

"Knock, knock. Anybody home?"

"If we say no, do you think he'll go away?" Arcee suggested.

"What is it, Wheeljack?" Ratchet sighed. "We're waiting for a call and need to keep the line open."

"I knew you'd be happy to see me," the wrecker said, the smile audible in his voice. "The Jackhammer's damaged, and I need to bring her in for some repairs."

"What… you… are you insane!?" Ratchet sputtered. "Decepticons could see you! They'll find out where we're at. Turn around immediately!"

"Don't get your gaskets in a twist. I scanned the area. We're fine."

"That does NOT reassure me," Ratchet snapped. "Turn around and I'll send a ground bridge for you."

"Too late, Doc. Open up; I'm coming in."

"Wheeljack!"

"Come on," he coaxed. "The longer I sit here, the more likely I'm going to be seen. Besides, I come bearing gifts."

Ratchet growled but flipped the switch to open up the silo's elevator.

"Sweet!" Miko cheered, launching herself off of the cushion and Jack. "Maybe he brought some more grenades to blow up stuff or some new swords to show off …" She danced around, slashing at the air with invisible katanas. "I know! We need some music!"

There was a collective "NO!" from everyone before the elevator began to come down.

The Jackhammer was a mess. It was scorched and dirty like he'd had to make a crash landing. Some kind of gore spattered the front and looked to have choked up the intakes, and a plume of black smoke trailed after one of the thrusters as it descended. Wheeljack stood in the open back hatch.

"Decepticons?" Arcee asked, walking up to the edge of the elevator.

"Nah," he dismissed. "At least, not recently. Most of it's from a rough re-entry I had to do last week."

"And the engine?"

His cocky smirk faltered. "Well… "He rubbed the back of his neck almost sheepishly. "About that. No one mentioned there was so much air traffic on this planet when the seasons changed. I've sucked up a couple dozen battalions of these big, dumb birds. They don't show up on my radar or scanners. I never see them until they're plastering the window."

"Well, clean it up before it stinks up the whole place," Ratchet demanded. "You said you found something? I hope to Primus it's energon. We're running dangerously low after all the fighting lately."

"Sorry to disappoint you," he said, ducking back into the hatch a moment. When he returned, everyone gasped when he produced a data cylinder and put it in Arcee's hands. "It made me think of you guys, so I just had to get it."

"What's on it? How … how do you know it doesn't have a tracking beacon on it?"

"Cool it, Doc. I haven't seen a 'Con for days. I'd know if they were following me."

Arcee plugged it into the computer for Ratchet, and he began extracting the data. "So, where did you find it?" she asked.

Wheeljack shrugged. "Side of the road," he said dismissively. "Coincidentally, I happened to lose most of my energon supply when I stopped to pick it up."

Ratchet growled. "We are NOT a charity! We barely have enough to fight this war without having to support a bunch of … deserters too!"

"For the most part, they're deserters that couldn't defend themselves if they were spotted by the Decepticons. Expecting servant-class bots to fight a war isn't right or fair - even if it is for their own good."

"They could at least move closer so we could help them," Ratchet snapped.

"And be cannon fodder for you guys?" he countered doubtfully. "Doesn't seem like the boss' style."

"They could stand up for what they believe in and support what we're risking our lives for!"

"Ratchet…" Arcee placed a hand on the medic's arm and looked at him with warm concern. "How about you go double check my updates or something? I'll listen for Optimus."

He calmed a small measure and cast Wheeljack one more glare before leaving the room.

The wrecker turned to her after watching him go.

"Thanks for the support," he smiled.

"I didn't want him to throw a rod," she reasoned. "I never said I supported you or them."

"But you know I'm right," he pointed out smugly.

She frowned at him, but walked back to her data pad and picked it up. "We can't spare much. Maybe you should consider robbing the Decepticons to give to the poor instead of hindering the good guys."

"Hey! How many times have I been here asking for donations? Oh right. None," he countered. "I just thought you might consider compensating me for handing something important over that you'd normally have to risk your afts for. Energon to replace what I bartered for it would be nice, but I guess I'd take whatever _you_ have in abundance." He flashed her an unnerving smile, not hiding his roving blue optics. "But, you'll have to sweet talk me into it."

Her optics widened, and she shuddered with the effort to keep from slapping him, but it was too late. Wheeljack knew he'd hit a nerve. "You're not my type," she managed to say with some measure of restraint.

"What?" he chuckled in disbelief. "I don't think you know what your type is, Crotch Rocket."

"I know it's NOT cocky, insubordinate, reckless grease balls," she snipped and turned away.

"You forgot good looking," he called after her.

She growled with disgust, sounding more like Ratchet than she cared for. She really needed to get out of here. Amusement tickled the back of her processor, or at least some kind of memory of it. Yeah; they'd have thought this was a riot.

"Maybe you should go hit up some of those poor, defenseless bots you've been protecting if you're looking for some action," Jack suggested scornfully.

"No good," Wheeljack said. "Arcee's the only femme I've come across. My guess is they're waiting to see who's going to win this war before they land."

"Or they're too smart to come out of hiding for you," Miko quipped.

"You beat me to it, Miko," Ratchet said, walking back from the mechanical chase. "Aren't you wasting time you could be using fixing your ship?"

The wrecker shrugged with a smirk and walked back to the platform.

Ratchet turned to Arcee. "He might get done faster if you helped," he suggested. "I'll find something to give him for it."

"No, no." Wheeljack insisted, feigning insult. "Call it a gift - my contribution to the cause. It's not worth slag anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, not worthless. But, Megatron would have been pretty disappointed if he'd gone through all the trouble of shooting me down for it. I took a peek - couldn't help myself. All that's on it is a bunch of classical art from Cybertron."

"You mean, like, pictures of energon fruit in baskets and naked Cybertronians with fig leaves covering their junk?" Miko asked.

"What are you … ?" Ratchet looked at her, befuddled. "No, never mind. I don't want to know."

"I didn't see anything like that on there," Wheeljack said, pulling the access panel off of the smoking thruster. "But, I didn't really dig too far into it. Not my thing."

"Well, it's still important," Ratchet stated. "Optimus will be glad to have it."

An unfamiliar tone sounded and Ratchet checked his screen, confused. Arcee looked at her data pad, and all three kids checked their phones.

"Sorry," Wheeljack said, ducking back into his ship. "It's me."

"Deserter?" Ratchet asked accusingly.

Arcee walked back to the platform and peeked into the hatch, curiously. Wheeljack stood at his console, addressing a glowing monitor.

"How many?" he asked quietly. "Did they see you? … No, don't do anything stupid. Just sit tight for now …. Yeah, okay … Alright, alright. I'll check it out. Give me some time."

"Friend of yours?" she asked.

"Not exactly," he said, all of the mirth from before now evaporated as he came back out. "Ratchet, can I bum a ground bridge?"

"Aren't you going to fix your ship?"

"No time." He tossed a key to Arcee. "Don't wreck her. Maybe if you clean her up nice, I'll take you for a ride when I get back." He winked at her, and she felt her fans kick on as anger threatened to fry her processor.

"You can fix it yourself or drive there if you don't tell us what's going on," Ratchet said sternly. "Who was it? What's wrong?"

"Just a deserter with a 'Con problem," Wheeljack said, not without a little disdain. "I can handle it, so you guys can keep fighting the 'real' fight."

"Tell us," Arcee said. "If we can help, Optimus would want us to. You said so yourself."

"Thanks but no thanks," he dismissed. "Your arm's busted, so you'd just be a liability. And no offense Ratchet, but you've gotten a little soft."

"I say we let Optimus decide," Ratchet said, opening a commlink to their team leader.

"Wait, no really … "

"Optimus, do you copy?"

There was a long pause.

"Optimus?"

"Yes. I hear you, Ratchet." Optimus' voice filled the room.

"How are things going at the mine?"

Another pause.

"Better than we had expected. There is a rich energon vein here. It will take longer than we first thought."

"Well, that's some good news at least. You want to hear some more?" he asked. "Wheeljack found another data cylinder."

"That is excellent news, old friend. I look forward to seeing what is on it."

"There's some potentially bad news too," Ratchet added.

"Oh?"

"Wheeljack?" Ratchet stepped aside from the intercom.

Wheeljack cleared his throat. "Optimus, I have to help an _unaligned_ refugee," he termed, casting Ratchet a smug sneer. "He says 'Cons have been skulking around his hiding place and energon source. He doesn't know if they're building something or looking for something, but they've been coming and going for a couple weeks. He asked me to check it out. Doc here thinks I need backup just to see what's going on. I don't."

"Where is this refugee?"

Wheeljack sighed, looking irritated. "He's located in a place called North Dakota. He would prefer I didn't send you his coordinates, if you get my drift."

"I do. It is unfortunate he does not trust us, but I cannot send you alone in good conscious. Arcee will go with you since I cannot spare any of my help at the moment."

"Wait. Optimus, I don't think that's such a good idea. This bot's not crazy about _me_ knowing where he is, much less someone on your team. Plus, he's a little belligerent when it comes to the humans he's 'adopted.' I'll do better on my own."

"Take Jack with you to show we sympathize with the humans as well and to explain to his friends what is going on."

"Jack can't go, Optimus," Ratchet interjected. "Remember, his leg is injured."

Another pause. Ratchet frowned. Something must be interfering with the commlink.

"Yes. I had forgotten. Send one of the others. I am sure Bulkhead would trust Wheeljack to take care of his friend."

"You mean Miko?" Wheeljack asked doubtfully. "Isn't she a little high-strung for diplomacy?"

"Those are my orders," he said firmly. "I need to get back to work. Optimus out."

"Guess you're stuck with us," Miko said, smiling with excitement.

Wheeljack began to scowl but caught himself. "I guess so." He turned to Arcee. "But. I knew you couldn't stay away from me."

She vented a sigh of disgust. She almost wished she could stay at the base, but only almost.


	2. Chapter 2

On a desolate road that crossed gently rolling grassland, the air crackled and began to twist in on itself changing from the slate blue of the cloudy sky to green as a ground bridge opened up. Miko jogged out first, but her enthusiasm was quickly curbed by the sudden chill in the air. Scrap. She always forgot that not everywhere was as warm as Nevada, and she was decidedly under dressed. Arcee looked down at her rubbing her arms with concern as she walked out.

Wheeljack surveyed the landscape and checked his scanner.

"There's definitely something going on to the north of here. I'm getting a huge energon signal."

"Maybe we should check in with your not-exactly friend first," Arcee suggested.

He shook his head. "Too risky. The 'Cons might pick up on all of us together. And, Oxbow won't be happy about this situation."

"Wheeljack…" She motioned down to Miko jogging in place to keep warm. "Miko needs some protection from the cold, and we need more details on what we're going into."

He sighed, putting away his scanner. "Alright," he surrendered. "Here's the plan. We'll go up to the house in our alt modes in case anyone's there. Are you able to carry Miko?"

"No," she said flatly before transforming and turning on Sadie.

Wheeljack grumbled but transformed and opened a scissor door.

"Cool … "Miko breathed in awe, slipping behind the steering wheel.

"Don't. Touch. Anything," he warned through the car's speakers. "Come on, Arcee. It's a few miles that …"

But, she was already off, gaining speed fast.

"Don't just sit here!" Miko shouted, grabbing the wheel and trying to stomp the accelerator. "Come on! Go after her!"

"Listen, Kid. We're not here to … "

"Or are you scared of losing..." she mocked with a smirk when the rear view mirror focused on her "… to a girl?"

A few tense seconds passed.

"Pffft," Wheeljack scoffed. "Please …"

A Cybertronian engine that sounded remarkably similar to a twelve-cylinder power plant roared to life behind her, and she could feel it her guts. The shifter clicked into second. Wheeljack redlined it - at least according to his instrument panel and the stutter of a convincing-sounding rev limiter - and it felt like the car was going to break itself in half as the rear wheels tried to come around and overtake the stationary front. The smell of burning rubber and glowing-hot brakes stung her nose. When he let go, she thought it felt like she was getting launched into orbit.

The landscape raced past in a grey-green blur. The yellow line in the road could only suggest that it was dotted. Arcee quickly came into view and went. Miko thought she'd just let Wheeljack ahead and slow down so he'd not gloat about winning, but the motorcycle's engine whined into a higher octave and she wouldn't let them overtake her again.

"Is that all you got, Crotch Rocket?" Wheeljack shouted over the road noise.

It wasn't. They came to a straightaway and Arcee found a gear Miko didn't know any motorcycle was structurally capable of and screamed past them. Sadie held up an arm and extended a middle finger in Wheeljack's headlights. The car's stereo reverberated with Wheeljack's laughter, and he floored the accelerator to catch up to her. But, at the crest of a hill, Arcee's break light came on. He slowed and pulled up alongside her, rolling down the window.

"That the place?" Arcee asked, looking at a farmhouse in the distance.

"Must be," Wheeljack reasoned. "Not many possibilities out here in the middle of nowhere."

Arcee clicked back into gear and cruised down the hill at a more civilized pace.

"Kid? You okay?"

Miko realized her hands hurt from gripping the wheel so hard, and her neck muscles ached with tension. "I think I had … a … moment," she said, choosing the appropriate term for the new sensation carefully.

He chuckled, rumbling down the road after the motorcycle.

The farmhouse was smaller than it looked when they got to the end of the long driveway. The ridiculously oversized pole barn connected to the back had made it look bigger from the road. It was the only sign a bot lived here. A camper and fifth-wheel trailers were parked in the grass - a flatbed, some kind of livestock trailer, and one Miko had seen demolition derby cars being hauled into the arena on. Some kind of 4x4 jeep knock off was parked near the house. A light in the front room window came on. Miko got out and walked up to the porch so no one would get the impression they had ill intentions. She knocked on the door even though she'd clearly seen someone move the curtains.

A middle-aged woman in jeans and a quilted flannel jacket opened the door and looked out at her suspiciously with tired eyes. It looked like she hadn't slept for a month or was just getting over the flu.

"Can I … help you?" she asked, unsurely.

Miko didn't know anything about the situation. It would have been nice of Wheeljack to share.

"Hi!" she chirped with all the merriment she could muster. "My name is Miko, and I'm an exchange student from Japan."

The woman opened the storm door and stepped out on the porch to shake her hand. It was cool and thin.

"Um, I'm Tory." She still looked at Miko suspiciously. "You're a friend of Randy's?"

Randy. Bingo. She could work with that.

"Well, sort of. We hang out with the same crowd. I was wondering if he was home."

"He should be back any minute. He had a date tonight, you know," she said, unable to keep from smiling conspiratorially.

Miko did not know, but she nodded enthusiastically.

"I didn't mean to bother you, but he told me he had a really special kind of … car?" She hoped she didn't sound too unsure of that. But, come on. It had to be a car. She'd be racing the hell out of Wheeljack or Bumblebee if Optimus would've let her. An 'unaligned refugee' could make some serious dough at it. "Me and Sadie were wanting to check it out. Maybe show off mine." She gestured back to Wheeljack.

"Wow, it looks very nice," Tory smiled politely. "Looks fast."

"Yeah, it gets me where I'm going, I guess," she said dismissively with a wave and an eye roll in said car's direction. "Daddy's totally getting me a new one for my birthday."

She must have just convinced at least half of the population of North Dakota that all Japanese girls were crazy, stinking rich, because the woman seemed to buy it. Yikes.

"Would you and Sadie like to come inside out of the cold? It looks like it's going to rain here soon."

Yes. "No, no we're fine, but thank you. I don't really like letting him out of my sight. Car thieves and all." She face-palmed mentally. Yeah, carjackers were thick in these parts.

"Of course," Tory said, appropriately doubtful.

An awkward silence stretched out intolerably.

"So… how's the gas mileage?" she floundered.

"Surprisingly, not bad," Miko said truthfully.

"Yeah?"

There was the sound of tires on the gravel drive, and Miko heaved a sigh of relief.

"That must be them now."

A truck pulling a beat-up car on another racing trailer was crawling up the drive toward them. Wow, this bot knew how to pick a disguise. If she'd seen him on the street, she never would have guessed.

They stopped at the front of the house and got out. Randy looked at Sadie, who waved, the crazy-ass supercar in his drive way, then at Miko and his mom. However much suspicion Randy was feeling was ten times worse on the date's face when she looked at Miko.

'Oh please. Don't flatter yourself, babe,' Miko mused. 'This chick's got standards. First rule of Date Club: don't date guys named Randy.'

"Hey Randy!" She waved cheerily, and the girl glared at him.

"You know her?" she accused with the sweet subtle abhorrence only a teenage girl was capable of.

"Nah," Miko cut in, at least trying to save him. "I just heard he's got a bad-ass car, and I'm here to race."

Randy and the girl looked at Wheeljack skeptically, and as if on cue, his car alarm started going off, shrieking, honking, and flashing like a smoke alarm in a microwave from hell, lit up on crack. Everyone covered their ears. Arcee even had the presence of mind to make Sadie try to cover hers under her helmet.

"Hey, hey, HEY!" Miko yelled, running down the stairs and yanking up the door and sticking her head in. "What the frag's that all about!?"

"It's not the car," Wheeljack hissed.

"I didn't think so," Arcee said quietly through his radio's commlink.

"So, try not to volunteer me for a fragging wrestling match! Is that too much to ask?"

"Okay, okay! Sheesh. You could've filled me in, you know?"

She heard a car door shut, and peeked over Wheeljack's roof. The girlfriend was getting into the jeep, avoiding talking to Mr. Randy.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow?" Randy called after her as she backed out of the drive way. "Okay… maybe not."

He turned back to his guests. The jeep disappeared over the hill.

"Alright," he surrendered irritably. "What's this really about?"

"You know a guy named Oxbow?" Miko asked.

His shared a glance with his mom. "You mean, like the lake?"

"No," she stated. "I mean like the big metal robot dude. A friend of mine got a distress call from him earlier today."

"Distress call?" Randy looked surprised. "For what? We didn't know anything was wrong." He looked back at the truck. "Ox?"

The unassuming truck was stubbornly silent for another moment. It was the kind Miko associated with men who felt they had to overcompensate for physical features they fell very short and very small in. Finally, it transformed into a tall, heavy shouldered mech with a black faceplate and orange optics that were glaring at Wheeljack as he sat his trailer down.

"Helpless servant-class bots, huh?" Arcee jabbed.

"I said _mostly_," he reminded her.

"I told you not to come here," Oxbow growled.

Wheeljack transformed and barely came up to his armpits. Randy and his mother gasped.

"I'm not crazy about it either," Wheeljack defended. "But, I didn't know what I was walking into, so I brought some back-up."

Oxbow looked doubtfully at Miko then gaped when Arcee transformed.

"So you brought a child and a femme? Is this some kind of joke?"

"Hey!" Miko shouted. "I'm a lot tougher than I look!"

"We can take care of ourselves," Arcee assured him.

"Are you one of Optimus Prime's?" he accused. "I heard he was desperate, but risking a femme should be a war crime. What if we've truly lost the Allspark?"

"We?" she scoffed. "Last time I checked the Autobot roster, your name wasn't on it. But, you're welcome to go with Wheeljack in my place if you're feeling so gallant."

Oxbow huffed, meeting her glare for glare. Wheeljack was about to step in, but Randy did it for him.

"Ox, you can handle it," he said confidently, trying to break the tension. Miko remembered that blissful ignorance, and envied him. "Go on. Me and Ma aren't going anywhere."

Oxbow's scowl softened and he looked from Randy to Tory. She pulled the coat around her more tightly and looked away, turning to go back into the house. At last, he shook his head.

"No," he decided. "I'm staying with them in case the Decepticons come here. I can't leave."

"Can't? Or won't?" Arcee asked flatly.

"Just stop," he snapped at her, taking a step toward Arcee.

Miko and Wheeljack jerked to attention, the mech's hands twitching toward his swords out of reflex. But, Arcee stood her ground.

"You don't understand," Oxbow accused.

"What? That hiding in the middle of nowhere is easier than getting shot at by Megatron?" she asked. "Believe it or not, I figured that out on my own."

"That's not what I mean. These people - they're good people. I've been here so long. They … need me."

Arcee sighed, cooling her processor. There was no point arguing with him.

"Fine," Wheeljack interrupted. "She's proven a hundred times over she's got bigger ball bearings than you. I'd rather have Arcee watching my back any day."

"Fine. A frag-load of good they'll do her or you or any of us if she gets offlined."

Wheeljack ground his teeth, but miraculously managed to contain his anger. He turned to Randy.

"We need a coat."

"What?" Randy looked confused. Wheeljack nodded toward Miko. Miko had forgotten she was cold, she was so pissed off. "Oh. Sure. …yeah."

He went inside and came back with a worn, sheepskin coat that swallowed Miko's lean frame.

"Hey… I'm sorry," he said to her quietly. "I'll talk to him. I don't know what's gotten into him."

"Don't worry about it." She tried not to sound angry. "We can handle it. Right guys?"

She half expected them to say she had to stay here. But, both of them knew she wanted to be as far away from here as they did. Arcee transformed and started her engine. She didn't bother turning her hologram on. Wheeljack cast Oxbow and Randy one final scowl and followed suit, opening his door for her. She didn't know if he'd consciously turned the heater on for her this time or if he was just that pissed. They drove back down the driveway to the road in silence, all of them stewing.

"Frag that guy," the car's speakers consoled. "Don't let it get to you, Kid."

"How could he be such a sexist asshole?" she grumbled. "Arcee could kick his ass to Cybertron and back."

"It's okay, Miko," Arcee said through the commlink. "He was right. I shouldn't be here, but I didn't exactly have a choice. I'd have stayed on Cybertron if it hadn't been for Cliffjumper. Then, they would have put me in stasis anyway like all the other survivors. I was lucky Optimus saw my skill as a fighter and a scout."

"I bet he wouldn't have said that if you were bigger," Miko concluded. "We need a femme the size of Megatron on our team."

Arcee snickered. "Hate to disappoint you, but femme's only come in one size."

"What?! Why's that when mechs can be every different grade of enormous?"

There was a thoughtful silence. Neither bot wanted to answer. "It's a ... hardware ... thing," Arcee finally volunteered.

"We're not far," Wheeljack interrupted, changing the subject. "Should be just north of us. Over that ridge I'd guess."

They turned off the road and made their way over the grass and rocks. Wheeljack probably could have gone faster, but Miko was sure it would have rattled the teeth out of her head and bounced out a kidney. It was hard to beat Bulkhead for off-roading. It was hard NOT to beat a ground-scraping supercar. Still, it beat walking in the cold - if only barely.

They stopped, looking down to where a strip mine marred the green of the grassland.

"This is the place," Wheeljack said. "But, this operation was abandoned a while ago."

Arcee transformed and switched her good hand to its blaster. "We should still approach with caution."

Wheeljack transformed and pulled out his swords.

"Stay here, Miko," the femme said.

"Aww," she pouted. "There aren't any 'Cons around right now."

"That doesn't mean it's not dangerous," she countered.

"So, I came all this way to just sit here and freeze my ass off?" she scowled. "Come on! Wheeljack? You know I can take care of myself."

"I'll have my hands full enough babysitting Gimpy here if something comes up. I don't want to have to worry about stepping on you on top of that. Besides, you get to be the super-important lookout." He patronized with a grin.

"I'll try to contain my excitement."

Arcee began to follow after Wheeljack but paused a few paces away and looked back at her suspiciously.

"I mean it," she warned.

"I get it already!" Jeeze, didn't anybody trust her?

Arcee caught up to the mech and followed him down the hill, the grass muffling their heavy footsteps.

Miko waited for them to disappear over the edge before creeping up behind them in the tall grass. The mine's sides were too steep to go down without being noticed, so she had to settle for waiting at the top.

"Any guess at what's going on?" Arcee asked.

"Beats me." Wheeljack shrugged. "There wasn't anything but scraps here last time I checked."

At the bottom of the pit, he knelt to inspect markings and footprints in the clay.

"It's definitely been getting a lot of traffic lately. A ship's landed here a couple times. Not the Nemesis, but a decent-sized transport at least."

"The energon's down there," she said, pointing toward what looked like a natural cave system the mine had broken into. "I don't even need the scanner to tell me. I can practically taste it. They must have hit a new vein, but why wouldn't Megatron be mining this non-stop, much less guarding it?"

"We don't know he isn't," Wheeljack warned. "Look there."

Droplets of energon had pooled on the clay and glowed in the waning twilight. A trail of them lead into - or away from - the opening.

"No life readings," she said, "Cybertronian or otherwise. Think we should check it out?"

"Sure. Maybe it'll cave in on us, and you'll jump my chassis in desperation."

Arcee groaned, rolling her optics as she produced a flashlight. "Maybe it'll crush your thick helm."

He grinned lasciviously as she walked past him into the darkness.

The tunnel went back a few hundred yards before it made a sharp turn. She rounded the bend and saw the distinct blue glow of processed energon cubes a few dozen paces away and an abrupt end of the tunnel behind them.

"Scrap..." she cursed and whirled on Wheeljack. "It's a trap!"

Instead of the ceiling caving in like both of them had been expecting, a ground bridge had opened up outside the exit and vehicons were lining up to block it. The squadron that had chosen the shortest straw came running down the tunnel at them, firing to push them back.

Arcee ran at them, her legs pumping harder, building speed as she returned fire. She leapt and hit the first 'con square in the chest, and had put a hole through his neck before he hit the ground beneath her. Another was almost instantly there to take his place, and she jumped in a spin, throwing all of her momentum behind her blade. But, running on instinct, she reversed the motion to handle a third adversary, and he was as startled as her when all she did was slap him across the face and scream as pain shot up her arm all the way to her spark. He seized his chance and grabbed her wrist, torqueing it behind her, trying to pin her to the ground or wall.

Wheeljack caught up to her. The 'con looked up at the sound of his battle shout, and he split the spark chamber with one strike that opened the chest up from hip to shoulder with enough power left to dismember the arm in case the vehicon didn't realize he was dead fast enough.

"Maybe you should take clean-up duty," he suggested, already plowing ahead of her, killing two at a time.

She jogged after him, clutching her shoulder and willing the pain receptors to shut up. Despite the white mech's impressive efficiency, there was still plenty of clean-up to do in order to get back out in the open and without 'cons at their back. Only now, every action lit up her shoulder and back like an energon bomb. She hated it when Ratchet was right.

'Cons squeaked past Wheeljack in the narrow tunnel, firing at her and at Wheeljack's back. She had to get it together. One blaster, one blade, and two lightning fast feet were all she needed. Right. Suck it up, as Miko would say. Arcee sucked it up. She ran at the first vehicon and surprised him when she rebounded off the cave wall and her shin guard cracked his helm she hit with so much force. She launched from his shoulder blasting the next vehicon that hadn't been able to keep from pausing to watch beautiful death descend on him. The first was dispatched with another blast when she hit the opposite wall and coiled all of her momentum into her legs. She sprung at the last obstacle between her and Wheeljack, thrusting her blade through the dark armor and into its spark chamber.

The ground bridge had closed, but two dozen more vehicons were lined up with blasters at the ready.

Wheeljack had the audacity to laugh. "They must not have expected much of a challenge."

"Yeah," she panted, trying to cool her components. "Letting us warm up like that… this'll be too easy." A caution alert was going off now in her diagnostics, and she was aware of something dripping down her arm. Only a slow leak; probably just coolant if her core temp was rising. She might have just opened up a patch Ratchet had made. But, Wheeljack nudged her arm carefully with the back of his hand and studied the glowing energon that came off. "Don't worry about it."

"Didn't say I was," he grinned. He sheathed one sword so he could arm himself with his cannon and returned his attention to their next challenge as they walked out.

She was glad he didn't tell her to stay close to him. Her pride wouldn't have let her if he had. She backed up against him, blaster at the ready. His energy field hummed with excitement, and it bled into her through the contact like an infection. Something sizzled at the back of her processor. Why now of all times? It felt like she could turn around right then and it would be Cliffjumper at her back, ready with a reassuring smile and a look on his face that said, 'If we get out of this 'Cee, I promise you're gonna be screaming my name all night.' She couldn't resist looking, and the sensation evaporated immediately. But, the memory still made her shiver with that old anticipation. Wheeljack snickered behind her. The infection bled both ways.

"Well, if they're waiting for us to take the first shot… " he whispered. "You ready?"

"I was sparked ready."

They threw themselves into the fight, Arcee going low, Wheeljack aiming high. He decapitated the first Decepticon and deflected a shot from the one behind it. Arcee took his opening and turned to aim at the 'cons to their right beneath Wheeljack's outstretched arm with her weak side guarded by his body. She'd offlined three when she felt the flat of his sword at her waist, corralling her to turn and shift her exclusively long-range attention to four more that were charging them as he dealt with closer and slightly more immediate danger. One was a little thicker-skinned than the others or luckier at deflecting her shots, and got dangerously close.

"Wheeljack!"

They traded targets, and he slammed his cannon into the 'con's face, blowing off the top of its head in the same motion. Arcee was now fenced against him by his sword, but she felt comforted to have it between her and the vehicons that were running at them over their fallen comrades. It gave her the nerve she needed to draw a careful bead between their optics in rapid succession before two 'cons could get to them. The last of their attackers were torn between deciding if they wanted to go out getting shot or cut in two. Arcee didn't know if it was Wheeljack's field or if her own had gotten away from her by now, but her spark hadn't felt this alive in months. Primus couldn't have wiped the grin off her face as she turned again to see if Wheeljack had any left.

"ARCEE! LOOK OUT!"

Miko's scream jerked her out of her high, but not before something slammed into Wheeljack from behind them. As Wheeljack rolled away from the back wall of the mine and cave, the armored truck that had hit him transformed into Breakdown.

"Wheeljack?" For an instant she felt disoriented, cold, and without armor when his field was suddenly ripped away from her. She took a step toward them to run and help, but something hit her in the back of the neck and sent a lightning storm through her body, bringing her to her knees.

"Surprise!" Knockout laughed.

Miko watched from the edge of the mine. Scrap. She'd been too late. Her mind raced to think of a way to help them. First thing was first, she had to get away to _get_ help. It stung her deeply to leave her friends. Wheeljack was pinned beneath Breakdown as he was beating the back of his helm with his hammer, and Arcee was unconscious from Knockout's lance. Maybe they hadn't seen her.

She opened her phone to call Ratchet. No answer.

"Come on, come on…"

Maybe Jack had his phone on him. Nothing. Even Raf wasn't picking up. Scrap.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: From the looks of things, Wheeljack isn't a popular guy to pair up with Arcee. Sorry. I know TF:Prime Wheeljack is different from the old Wheeljack. My husband was even like "Wheeljack? Really?" But, screw that guy. He needs to stop snooping around in my computer anyway. I can't help but like Prime Wheeljack. I'm a sucker for supercars and samurai. :) I tried going back to watch the old cartoons from when I was little, but my exposure to cell phones and the internet over the past couple decades must've done something to my brain since I can no longer stay in the same room with them without my eyes starting to bleed.

Anyway, thanks for giving it a chance and reading this far!

* * *

Weather. Bad news. Game show. Reruns. More bad news. Nothing.

Jack looked over to where Ratchet's head and shoulders loomed beyond the railing. Raf was sitting on the stairs leading down to the lower platform as deep in thought over something on his laptop as the medic was on his monitor.

He almost wished Miko had stayed so they could play chess. He glared at his big, dumb boot, hating it.

"Don't you think they should've checked in by now? Arcee and Miko, I mean."

"It's only been an hour," Ratchet assured him without looking up.

"Yeah, but it just doesn't seem like Arcee. They might be in trouble."

The medic grumbled, bringing up Arcee's signal on the monitor. "She appears to be fine," he said, but he knew what this was really about. Primus knew he didn't like it either. "Despite his attitude, Wheeljack is a capable warrior."

"It's not his fighting I'm worried about," Jack confessed.

"You know as well as I do that Arcee takes her role seriously. Wheeljack knows he won't get anywhere," he said dismissively. "He just thrives on nettling people. So please, don't give him the satisfaction of being jealous."

"Of him?! No way," Jack scoffed, laughing to try covering his too quick reply. "I'm just worried he might end up doing something stupid to show off and … end up getting Arcee in trouble in the process."

The mech smirked. "You wouldn't be speaking from experience would you?"

"No!" But, he sighed. "Okay, I'm just saying … I know how … dumb guys can be when there's a pretty girl around. I mean … I'm assuming Arcee is attractive by Cybertronian standards."

Ratchet's smile softened. "Oh yes, very much so," he concurred, nodding thoughtfully. "When she first showed up with Cliffjumper, I was sure we'd have a real mess on our hands, but like I said, Arcee has been a model of self-control. You don't have to worry about her or Wheeljack."

Jack didn't feel any better about it but nodded.

"It's not been easy for her," Ratchet added. "She's a valuable asset to the team being the way she is, I mean. But, when Cliffjumper was here …" He sighed. "Sometimes I …"

The commlink chirped an incoming message.

"Optimus to base. Do you copy?"

"I'm here," Ratchet said, reverting to his usual self, almost with relief. "Go ahead."

"Ratchet, please listen closely as we do not have time for me to repeat myself. Megatron has contacted me with an urgent request for help."

"Megatron?!" The medic straightened.

Raf looked up from his screen, and Jack got to his feet and walked over.

"What's happening?"

"There is no time to explain. You must trust me and act immediately," Optimus said. "Deliver the cylinder to Arachnid. She will be waiting at these coordinates."

"But … Optimus … why? Are you sure?"

"Do not question my orders!" Prime demanded. "Deliver the cylinder at once!"

Ratchet frowned, slow and thoughtfully, leaning over the console.

"Ratchet? Do you copy?"

"I hear you," he grumbled. "Optimus, do you remember when you first told me you would always value my experience and input?"

"Of course I do, but this time …"

"Where were we?" Ratchet asked, reminiscing. "I can't remember if we were defending Iacon or attacking Keon."

A long silence stretched out.

"I believe we were attacking Keon."

"Enough!" Ratchet snapped, turning to the kids. "Rafael, try to triangulate the signal. Who is this?" he demanded. "Where's Optimus?"

The line went silent again but didn't disconnect.

"Rafael?"

"Don't bother," Arachnid's voice oiled. "The coordinates I sent were correct."

"You take me for a fool? I know my friend."

"I thought it would be worth a try," she reasoned. "It worked the first time, after all."

"What?! What have you done with the team?"

"It's a surprise," she tittered. "Do hurry."

"Give me proof you have them and they're alive!" Ratchet demanded.

"But, I don't have Prime or his team with me," she reasoned innocently.

"Then we aren't bringing you anything."

"We?" she asked. "Didn't 'Optimus' order you to send Arcee to North Dakota? I thought Knockout told me he'd already caught her and that other one."

"You better not have hurt her!" Jack shouted at the monitor. But Ratchet held up a hand to silence him.

"Is that Jack I hear?" she chuckled. "Tell him I picked up an old friend from the hospital - just in case you didn't take me serious."

"Mom?!"

"So, who's it going to be, Doctor?" she asked. "There's only one data cylinder. You can try to save Optimus, or you can try to save June Darby. Your call."

"What about Arcee and Wheeljack?" he reminded her.

"I'm afraid that isn't a hostage situation," she explained. "I would have preferred to take care of Arcee myself, but she was destined for a much less glorious end."

"Where are they?!" Ratchet shouted, losing his patience with her toying.

"So serious," she chuckled. "I wish I could see your face. Tell you what … Meet me at the coordinates. We'll discuss your options in person. If I've done my math right, I shouldn't have to tell you to come alone." The commlink disconnected.

"Ratchet … what are we going to do?" Jack asked.

The mech sighed wearily. "Save your mother by bringing the cylinder to Arachnid."

"You know it won't be that easy," Raf stated even though he didn't have to. They all knew the Decepticons wouldn't pass up an opportunity to offline Ratchet, especially if they thought the rest of the Autobots were as good as dead.

"We don't have a choice," the medic said gravely.

Jack hobbled down the stairs as Ratchet topped off his energon from their dwindling supply. He'd been running at about half his capacity for weeks. His reasoning being he didn't need ammunition or to be able to perform at his best, unlike the rest of the team. Raf hurried to follow after Jack as he came around to face Ratchet.

"We're going with you!" Jack declared.

"No. It's too dangerous." He picked up the cylinder.

"That's my mom she has! Am I supposed to just go home and go on with my life if she doesn't come back?"

The medic grumbled to himself. He set the coordinates and powered up the bridge, then transformed around the cylinder so it was secured in the back of the ambulance.

"Well, hurry up and get in. Both of you," he ordered, opening his doors.

"What about the ground bridge? Raf asked.

"I put it on a remote. Hurry up!" he snapped. "Agent Fowler knows what to do if I don't come back."

"Don't talk like that," Jack said, buckling into the driver's seat.

Raf climbed into the other side, and the doors closed and locked. Ratchet turned into the ground bridge, and they emerged on a dirt road near the outskirts of Jasper, driving toward town.

"Wait? What are you doing?" Jack argued.

"I couldn't just leave you at the base alone," he explained through the radio. "But, your mother would never forgive me if I delivered you to Arachnid."

"Ratchet!" Jack snapped.

"I'm taking you to Rafael's house where it's safe. If you don't hear from me or anyone else, contact Agent …"

"I'm going with you!"

"No, you're not! Jack, I mean …"

But, phaser fire at his back tires interrupted the argument, sending the ambulance fish-tailing wildly.

"Scrap!" Ratchet snarled, adjusting a side view mirror to see a familiar black and purple helicopter coming up behind them.

She must have predicted him making such a move and was watching for him. He growled in frustration.

"Hang on."

With that, he swung around and tore away from Jasper, driving into her fire, then beneath her and away toward the desert.

"We have to face her," Jack shouted over the sound of the engine and gravel pelting Ratchet's undercarriage.

"I know, I know!" Ratchet said. "But, we're doing it my way - not hers."

"What about Mom?!"

"Don't worry," he said, sounding very worried. "Megatron will offline her if Arachnid comes back without the cylinder and without a fight."

"Are you sure?"

"She's still following us, isn't she?"

A missile took out a chunk of road to answer him, and he swerved to miss tearing off a wheel in the crater. When there were a couple miles between them and the last notable land formation, he slowed to a stop near an abandoned junk yard. But, the helicopter had pursued them casually, like a cat toying with its prey.

"So, the formidable Autobots have been reduced to an old broken-down hearse," Arachnid chuckled, descending to face him. "That's just sad."

She transformed into her eight-legged form, holding a swaddled June Darby.

Ratchet scoffed, transforming after letting the boys out. "I'm not that old," he defended. "But then again, being young and feisty hasn't given anyone an advantage over you yet."

She snickered, carrying her prey over to the old cars and trucks. "Agility and stamina certainly didn't hurt any of them either."

He scowled. "Cut the banter. I have to get back and save my team."

He pulled an old white truck that still had all four tires out from a rusty cluster and sat the cylinder in its bed.

"Get in and stay down," he told Jack and Raf apologetically. Neither of them liked it, but they complied.

"What are you doing Ratchet?" Jack asked, getting behind the wheel.

"The best I can," he replied morosely. "I'm sorry, Jack."

He turned back to his adversary.

"I'm going to shove them out of the way, and you're going to let June go to join them," he explained. "I can't destroy the cylinder without harming them. You can't kill them without destroying the cylinder."

She arched a brow at him, impressed. "Clever," she purred. "Winner takes all?"

"If you win, you'd be wasting your ammunition killing them," he reasoned logically. "There won't be anyone left to stop you."

He put his foot on the truck's grill and shoved it hard, matching Raf and Jack's worried expressions as they rolled away.

Arachnid smiled. "I could kill her now," she pointed out, "and you'd still be all that stood between me and the cylinder."

"I've heard you're the sporting sort. Give me something to fight for."

She studied him a moment then shook her head with a chuckle and sliced the webbing off of June. The woman stumbled on unsteady feet and met the medic's optics with shocked disbelief before jogging after Raf and her son.

"You think leading me out here will do you any good?" the femme asked, backing away from him.

"It's better than giving you places to hide and climb."

She snickered. "Oh, I don't think I need stealth to win this fight. I still have the speed and finesse to best a burned out old mech like you."

Ratchet smiled, letting his broad bayonets click into place over his hands. He couldn't afford a fire fight with a target he'd never hit. He'd probably lose just as much energon hand to hand with her, but at least that way he'd be taking it in turn.

"Maybe," he smirked. "But don't forget, I was offlining Decepticons before you were an infection in your daddy's hardware."

Her smile evaporated into a scowl, and Ratchet grinned mockingly, taking a solid defensive stance. He crooked two digits in invitation.

It didn't surprise him when the first move she made was trying to net him in her polymer webbing, but it only knocked him off balance since it couldn't stick to the arid desert soil. She chose to use the distraction to open fire on him. Ratchet rolled to the side and got his feet under him to launch himself at her and away from June and the kids. He transformed into his alt mode with the momentum and gunned it, the clean whistle of his turbos shrieking with the speed.

Arachnid tried to dodge and transform, but he anticipated her move and caught her in a tackle as he rolled back to his bot form. He'd managed to catch her arms and pin her for a moment, but her legs' slashing claws attacked his face and vulnerable joints before he could plunge a blade home. But Primus, he couldn't let go now that she knew her weakness against him, or he'd never get his hands on her again. She was a live wire though, and his blades were useless as long as his hands were full. He rolled off his side, using his weight to his advantage and slammed her against the ground beneath him. He grit out an agonized groan as she cut into his shoulder and neck but struggled to thrash her harder and harder. It wouldn't kill her, he knew, but maybe it'd knock her senseless for a few precious seconds.

The truck shuddered and rocked with every slam and the screech and groan of metal on metal was awful to listen to knowing their friend was feeling pain with every blow. For the first time since grade school, Jack had to hide his face behind his mom's arm. Raf's eyes were screwed shut, and he was trying to cover his ears. June wished she had someone to be scared at. They were helpless. Even if there was somewhere to run before Ratchet … was finished, Jack couldn't have kept up with them on his broken foot.

Arachnid got a cheap shot in, blasting Ratchet in his hip joint, and he howled in pain. She shook one of his hands off of her, but he refused to let go of her other arm. The medic put everything he could into a strike at her face, but she parried and used his momentum to pull him to the ground and take the upper hand. She tried to shoot him, but they grappled for control of her free arm's blaster. At last, she overtook him and shot him in the thigh as he forced it away from him. It cost Ratchet his hold on her, and she threw him back, shooting him again in the torso.

"Ratchet!"

He faltered a step, one hand pressing against the raw wound in his middle, but then he shifted his other to his blaster and returned fire. He missed, but it made her reconsider. Another shot of webbing blinded him, and she pounced, sending them back dangerously close to the truck. They were close enough to June and the kids that it creaked on its old springs with the impact.

"I think I'll take your advice," Arachnid growled, pinning him down with one claw at his neck and another sank into his wound. Ratchet chocked back a strangled moan. "Shooting them would be a waste of ammunition. It will be much more satisfying picking them apart like flies."

She pushed the razor sharp claw slowly into his neck, and Ratchet's optics flicked to the truck less than ten yards away, apology in his expression.

"No!" June screamed.

Suddenly, the truck roared to life making all three of them jump and Arachnid pause. It hurdled forward toward her, accelerating faster than a sports car, honking its horn wildly.

June pulled the two boys against her, bracing for impact with the fighting behemoths and the broken glass, but the truck swerved to break through as many of Arachnid's legs as it could hit. The Decepticon screamed in agony and surprise, quickly shifting to her bipedal form. Ratchet seized the opening and caught her in the side of the helm with a haymaker that would've made Bulkhead proud.

But, the truck kept driving at full speed away from the fight. Jack spun around from looking out the back window and grabbed the wheel.

"Stop! We have to go back and help him!"

An ancient-looking CB radio under the dash hissed to life. "I'm burning up the last of my energon saving your ungrateful tailpipes," the voice crackled. "I don't have the power or desire for heroics. So sit down and shut up or get out!"

The door threw itself open with a bang, and June pulled Jack back away from the sand and rocks speeding by at 100mph.

"Don't argue with the nice truck, Honey," she ordered, pulling him with her to scrunch up on Raf's half of the bench seat. "We can just call Optimus when we're safe, and he'll take care of it. Right?" She met their disheartened looks. "Right?"

* * *

Should have brought a coat. Should have gotten Randy's phone number. Should have definitely brought running shoes. She was going to have blisters the size of half dollars, but she ignored the discomfort. Let it be a lesson. Next time, she was packing a bag.

In Japan, Miko had played soccer for several years. Once upon a time, jogging a mile or two would have been a warm-up. But, it was at least ten miles back to the farmhouse, and those days felt very long past. The first couple miles weren't completely miserable. She'd found her old rhythm and set a decent pace. She probably wasn't making four-minute miles, but the pace would have to do for eight more.

Then, the rain Tory had predicted opened up in a downpour. Her clothes and socks were soaked, and the coat was getting heavier and heavier, galding her shoulders and back. Better still, it stunk like old pot smoke. That Randy was a real classy guy. She was tempted to throw it off, but no one would save Arcee and Wheeljack if she froze to death out here.

Miko was confident she'd at least passed the halfway point when the insufferable happened. She could live with blisters and cold and wet, but the rhythm of her step stirred an earworm from some dark corner of her mind, and she was stuck with Seven Nation Army on repeat in her head. She couldn't remember the last time she'd heard the damn song and worse yet, she couldn't remember how it ended. Miko dug out her phone but couldn't find her headphones to listen to something else. They must've fallen out in the couch when she'd been roughhousing with Jack earlier. Arcee and Wheeljack had better be in seriously dire straits.

After the sun finally set, she was just going by the feel of the pavement under her feet, unable to see more than the shadowy suggestion of the horizon. For all she knew, she was all over the road, but all that mattered was that she was following it. Miko hadn't realized she was dozing until a horn honking and blinding headlights shocked her back to reality.

"Hey, Hon. You need a ride?" some woman's voice asked while her eyes adjusted.

She was about to jump in through the window and kiss her, but then she saw the glow of the ranch's security lights just over the next hill. Well, that was just fucking perfect, wasn't it?

"Sure," she croaked. "Just up ahead."

No sense ruining someone's upholstery she thought, walking back to the open tailgate and holding onto the side of the bed as the truck turned around. It only shaved a few minutes off the hour and half her phone said had passed since the last time she tried Ratchet, Jack, and Raf, but a few minutes might make all the difference in the universe to her friends. They'd been saved with less to spare before.

A light on a motion sensor came on as they pulled up to the house. Miko all by fell off the back of the truck. Her feet felt like they'd swollen to twice their size in the brief time they'd been off the ground and she was walking on raw nerves as she trudged to the porch.

"You gonna be okay?" the woman asked from the window.

"Fine," she mumbled, waving her hand over her shoulder. "I'm fine. Thanks."

She didn't even notice if the woman left or not as she made her way up to the door. No one answered her knock, and she swore under her breath. If that fucking truck wasn't here, she was going to … She heard music over the rain. It wasn't coming from the house. Miko walked around the porch to the side of the garage. Without knocking on the access door, she tried the handle and went in.

The first thing she noticed was that it smelled like a weekend-long rock concert. The place looked like a legitimate garage. Walls were lined with tools and chests. A stripped down rally car was parked over a floor pit.

"Miko?!"

Tory was sitting, cross-legged on Oxbow's hood with a laptop and papers scattered around her, apparently balancing her checkbook or paying bills - and smoking pot. Okay…

"You're back already?" She looked embarrassed, but she must've thought that trying to hide it would just make her look stupid.

Whatever. Miko did not care.

"Not exactly, she said bitterly. "Arcee and Wheeljack were ambushed, and I can't get ahold of anyone at base. Shit is going down, and I need to borrow Randy's truck. He can grow some lug nuts on the way."

"I told you, I can't …" Oxbow said, his headlights blinking at her.

"You don't have a choice!" she screamed. "My friends had better not get offlined because of you, or I'm ratting you out to Megatron myself!"

"Listen, kid …"

"Shut it!" she snapped. "Suck it up!

"Ox, it's okay," Tory interrupted. "They need you."

She slipped off of him and collected her computer and papers.

"And if I don't come back?" he reasoned, transforming into his bot form, crouched under the too-low ceiling. He blocked the door to the house, making her face him.

Miko recognized that look on Oxbow's black face even though it was completely different from Bulkhead's construction worker model. Oxbow wasn't Randy's truck.

"You'll come back," she assured him.

The mech didn't truly believe her.

Miko sighed.

"I know it's hard, and it's not fair and you couldn't possibly begin to understand how crazy this whole mess is," she said. "But, it's bigger than me or you or any of us. It's about saving the whole world. I won't promise your friend will come back; I can't, but if he doesn't …"

"Then, I die too," Tory stated.

"What?" Miko asked, her whole heroic speech derailed.

Tory sighed. "I … It's complicated. Like you said."

"Try me," she invited. "But, make it the Cliff Notes version."

"Don't tell Randy," she shook her head sadly. "I think he suspects, but he's in denial." She wrung her thin hands. "I had - have - cancer," she explained. "The doctors found it a long time ago. I haven't been to a doctor for years. We couldn't afford it, and Randy's dad would've been able to find us if I did. But, I didn't have to go because of Oxbow. Something about him - the way he burns that blue stuff instead of diesel - just being around him stops it. It doesn't make it go away, but it puts it on hold."

"You do know hospitals are anonymous, right?" Miko pointed out.

"It's not even about Randall anymore," Tory admitted. "Not even money. It's just if I went to the doctor now, even at the best hospital in the country they couldn't give me more than a few miserable months to live. It's aggressive. I found that much out a few years ago, when him and Randy went to a race out of state without me." She shook her head. "It's in my lymph nodes now. Yes, if I'd gone to a doctor sooner, I might've avoided it getting this bad, but I never thought Oxbow would leave. I could go another twenty years like this for all I know - no chemo, no medicine, no being miserable. I could enjoy watching my kid grow up, maybe see my grandkids."

"Well, I'm not saying he ISN'T coming back tonight," Miko clarified. "I was just preparing you for the worst. Has Oxbow told you his side of the story? His planet is dead and this was the only place they could run. Now the bad guys are gonna use this one to take over all of the robots left and probably destroy it in the process." She turned to Oxbow. "Some part of you has to still care about what the Autobots and Optimus Prime are fighting for. Help them one last time. Please!"

Oxbow took a collective breath and looked down at Tory one more time before shifting to kneel in front of Miko. "Tory and Randy don't know what this means," he explained quietly, bringing his shoulder around for her to see. "But, if you know what an Autobot is, then I think you'll understand." He detached his shoulder's armor plate and held it for her to examine closely. Up close, she could see the weld spatter under the green paint around a square of metal that had been cut out and replaced. "I gave up fighting for a side a long time ago when they left me for dead. But, when I was a warrior …" He turned it over to show the square had only been flipped around, and on the underside was the Decepticon insignia. "I never fought for a Prime. And, if I start now, your 'bad guys' will find me for sure."

Realization mixed with a little fear washed over Miko in a hot, sickly wave that left a chill in its wake. But, she looked up and met his orange optics without flinching.

"Then you know I'm right," she said. "You know what Megatron will do if he wins. What good will it do her if more Autobots die, and he poisons this planet? Randy might be enslaved at best, and there sure as fuck aren't going to be any grandkids whether she's around to see them or not. If you don't care about Optimus, fine. Fight for Tory and Randy."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Great. I've taken too long to finish it. Now I'm going to have to start labeling stuff "Pre-Beast Hunter." Still got a couple/few chapters to go. Thanks for the reviews guys!

* * *

Wheeljack groaned as his optics came back online. Did anyone get the number of that truck? He tried to move but quickly realized he was clamped to a medical berth. Right. Breakdown and Knockout. Where was Arcee?

He lifted his head and was relieved to see her across the small medical bay from him. She looked worse than he felt. Her lead lolled to the side. She was scuffed and dented, and a thin stream of energon had meandered its way down the berth, starting at her elbow and going along her leg to drip onto the floor. At least she was alive, but Prime was going to offline him. Then Ratchet would bring him back just so he could offline him.

"Arcee?"

No response.

"Hey. Arcee. Up and at 'em. Come on."

After another few tense seconds, her face contorted with pain and blue and lavender optics flickered on. Then they widened and she tried to sit up.

"Easy," Wheeljack coaxed.

She looked around frantically, struggling against her bonds and thrashing her shoulders back and forth.

"Arcee! Stop!"

At last she seemed to realize he was there and met his optics.

"Hi." He smirked.

"No…" Her chest heaved for cool air, and he could hear her fans kick on, running fast. Her processor was going to short circuit. She went back to fighting the restraints, and the energon drip increased to a steady dribble.

"Arcee! Look at me. LOOK AT ME!"

She did. He'd never seen her afraid. Primus, he wouldn't have believed Arcee was capable of fear before now, but she was terrified.

"Wheeljack…"

"That's right; it's just me. Remember? Cocky, insubordinate, reckless grease ball?" he reminded her consolingly. He tried to smile for her, but it softened. "Not Tailgate. Not Cliffjumper. I'd have ended up here on my own even if Optimus hadn't made you come."

She was still looking at him like he had a third optic. He couldn't imagine what was going on in her head right now. He didn't want to know. She blinked and tears slid down her face. Then she was back at tearing up her arm again.

"Arcee, please stop…"

"Yes, please," Knockout concurred, walking in with a data pad. "You're bleeding all over my floor."

Wheeljack growled through clenched teeth. "You're gonna be in a world of slag when I get out of here."

The Decepticon only nodded, tapping his way down some sort of list as he inspected the readouts on monitors beside Wheeljack's berth.

"How about I shove that up your shiny aft for starters?" He watched him walk around to monitors on the other side. "Knockout!"

"I don't think you're in any position to make threats … Wheeljack, is it?"

"Don't you forget it."

Knockout snickered. "Consider your name as good as struck from the histories," he smiled.

"Leave her alone!" he demanded when the red mech crossed the room. "I'm talking to you!"

"Don't touch me!" Arcee snapped, suddenly lucid.

Knockout finished a scan of her from head to toe then grinned as he caressed her thigh just to spite her. "Looks like everything's fully functional and very healthy. Well, almost everything," he said gesturing toward her arm. "But, we have plenty of those parts already."

"Parts? What are you up to?" she hissed.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," he said. "I believe you understand what biotech parts are, right?" Her optics widened. "Right. You see, Megatron's been having to resort to 'culling' his lesser forces in order to maintain higher ranking and more skilled fighters. But, it's a bit of a crapshoot when it comes to quality. Then, I had a stroke of brilliance," he boasted. "Why not put all of the deserters to use? They're mostly loyal to the Autobots anyway, and they can't fight their way out of a wet paper sack. All it would take was a little trap and a little bait. If I'd known it would be so easy to catch some Autobots in my little honey pot, I would've done it sooner."

"You're a disgusting, fragging cannibal," Wheeljack accused. Knockout ignored him.

"I bet you've already guessed what's going to happen, Arcee, so sing along if you know the words," he laughed, stepping back over to Wheeljack. "I'm going to cut your partner up into neat little pieces. Audio, optics, spark chamber, t-cog, coolant processor, alloy modifier, energon pump, diagnostics system… I don't really care for his voice, so we'll probably scrap that bit. And, he's loaded with all sorts of other spare parts we can stand to stock up on."

"No!" She shook her head frantically. "Leave him alone; I'll go first!"

"Arcee!" Wheeljack snapped at her.

"Patience, patience," Knockout chided. "You'll get your turn. But, since you have some rather sensitive feminine bits that have to stay connected to a living spark, I'm going to recommend you go into stasis when you're done watching."

"Are you firing on all cylinders?" Wheeljack scoffed. "You don't really think Prime's gonna let you keep one of his team to butcher at your convenience, do you?"

"I'm sure he _wouldn't_ if he wasn't predisposed right now … and forever as far as I can tell."

"Optimus is on his way right now," Arcee warned with grim satisfaction. "Ratchet would've called him as soon as I blacked out."

"That's assuming Ratchet got him out of Arachnid's own little trap, which she claims he has not." He shrugged with mock apology. "So, until someone tells me otherwise, I've got all the time in the world to do this carefully and _slowly_," he emphasized, summoning his torch cutter attachment. "We can save the pump for last. I'll even turn off his pain receptors so you can see the moment those big blue optics go out for the last time."

"Stop! No!" she shouted, thrashing at her restraints again. "Leave him alone!"

Her right arm was bleeding badly now, but she didn't notice or didn't care. Wheeljack thought he heard the ligaments grinding in her elbow, she was straining so hard.

"Arcee… " Wheeljack began to try consoling again. He willed himself not to flinch when the plasma cutter touched his protoform. "Optimus _will_ get out." Optimus would get out, and she'd be saved. He knew it. She had to know it too.

"Hey Knockoff!" she goaded. "I've seen better rims on lawn mowers."

Knockout rolled his optics. "Oh, now you're just desperate."

"Where'd you get that paint job? Maaco?"

"Heard that one before - twice actually," he recalled, unamused.

Arcee twisted to face him. "I think I see some scratches on your aft," she sneered. "Does Megatron like it rough?"

"Charming," he deadpanned.

"I bet the pretty ones are his favorite," she prodded further.

"You know, I just remembered, there are a LOT of parts a femme _can_ live without - like her voice box," he warned, turning around to face her.

Arcee smirked. "I'm sorry. Did I hit a nerve?"

"Hey! Don't turn your back on me, Turtle Head!" Wheeljack jabbed, but Arcee had Knockout's attention. "Arcee, cut it out …"

She ignored him, locking optics with the mad doctor.

"Do you just service the boss, or is it a chain of command thing? Soundwave too? Dreadwing? Does Starscream like to cuddle first?" She chuckled dangerously. "Primus, do you even remember your way around a femme's panel?"

Knockout stood over her, still and silent for a long, weighted moment.

"Knockout! You need her alive, remember? It's me you want!" Wheeljack shouted, jerking his shoulders back and forth, trying in vain to loosen his restraints.

But, Arcee had him hypnotized.

"It _would_ be unprofessional of me to not run a full diagnostic while you still have your wits," he leered.

Arcee bent her head forward closer to Knockout and gave him a smile that would've kicked on Wheeljack's fans in any other situation. "You don't have the tiny, fuzzy dice to try."

He seemed to grit his teeth, his mouth twitching between a scowl and an attempt at a good humored smirk. Then, he grabbed the lever on the Arcee's berth and slammed it back into the fully horizontal position making her wince.

"Don't you dare, you fragging slag sucker!" Wheeljack yelled, slamming his helm against the berth and straining his back and shoulders as he twisted against his restraints back and forth. "Knockout!"

"I … have always wondered …" Knockout purred, bringing a hand up to trace her jaw with a sharp digit, "… how this supple little body would feel under mine." His hand trailed down and over her breastplate to her narrow waist, admiring her lovely figure. "Me and Breakdown have a bet I'd really like to settle. Do you wax under this flirty little get-up?" He ran his hand along the joint of her hip and thigh, running his fingers beneath the armor. "Oh, I think I was right all along."

She tensed at his touch, but raised her hips to press against his hand. Knockout arched a brow ridge at her reaction, but Arcee smirked disdainfully at him and turned her head away from him to her right, to look at Wheeljack.

"I'm sorry it isn't you, Wheeljack," she breathed. "But … at least you're here … with me."

Wheeljack's optics widened. Had her processor fried?

"Now, now," Knockout chuckled, coming around to block her view of Wheeljack. "No distractions." She jerked as he opened her. "You'll forget all about him in a moment."

Wheeljack growled, heaving against his restraints again to the threshold of his pain tolerance. "Knockout! Get off of her!"

"Or what? You'll deafen me?" He grinned at Arcee and opened his bracer to produce a cable with a clamp on the end which he let her get a good look at. "Just so you don't feel too clever," he explained. "Medics have this nifty little workaround for our strictly-medical dealings with femmes' matrices."

She watched him clamp it to a bolt on her table, and realization seemed to be sinking in since the confidence in her optics was fading.

"And just like magic, your defenses think I'm good to go," he grinned. "No pillow talk, no foreplay, and none of that inconvenient lethargy and … vulnerability that goes with it." He caressed her thigh again appreciatively. "Best of all, I don't get the transmission fluid shocked out of me. Too bad I can't say the same for you."

"Knockout!" Wheeljack shouted in vain.

"Nothing personal," he consoled, slipping his claws back under her armor. "In fact, I'm sure you're a wild ride, but I've still got a some long hours of surgery ahead that I need my utmost concentration for, and I can't stand working with my goods all gummed up and dirty."

Arcee had time to take a last calming, collective breath and shuttered her optics before she jerked with a convulsion. Her face contorted, and she clenched her teeth in pain. Wheeljack heard and felt her energy field from across the room as it crackled and sparked with agony.

"ARCEE!" he bellowed, rocking his body hard enough to feel the bolts on the floor beginning to loosen. "LEAVE HER ALONE!"

"Shut up!" Knockout snapped at him then returned his attention to her.

She held out admirably for several more torturous minutes. Every part of her was taut with the pain. At last, a single energon tear slipped free, and she let go, screaming until he thought her voice box was going to short and his processor was going to fry. Then, the moment she'd been waiting for happened. Knockout bent over her to whisper something into her audio or to taste her, Wheeljack couldn't tell. She went silent, and he heard it - the last snap of her elbow joint, freeing her upper arm.

Knockout lurched back with a gasping cry of pain, clutching his chest.

"You GLITCH!" he snarled, swallowing back the reflex to purge.

Energon was dripping down Knockdown's arms, and when Wheeljack looked at Arcee, he saw the last thing he or Knockout would have thought of. Arcee's kickstand - a part of the structure of her upper arm - glistened with the Decepticon's energon. But, she was too burnt out to immediately realize her plan had failed. If she'd been aiming for his spark chamber, she must have barely missed it.

"Breakdown!" Knockout shouted. "Help me!"

His goon came running.

"What in the Pit happened?!"

"Never mind that now," Knockout snapped, helping him stem the bleeding. "Finish cutting that mech to pieces!"

He produced a smaller version of his taser rod and snatched a tool off his instrument table. Arcee screamed as he shocked her brutally, then he thrust the sharp tool into her abdomen between her hips and jerked it back out. She gasped a final cry and collapsed to the berth. Her optic's flickered, her face went lax, and at last, the blue and lavender orbs went dark.

"Arcee!" Wheeljack's voice snapped and popped from overuse.

"Are you insane?" Breakdown said in disbelief. "We were supposed to take her…"

"No self-respecting Decepticon would want her corrupted spark matrix!" Knockout snarled. "Kill the mech slow. Maybe she'll come around in time to see him and her rusty hardware expire."

Breakdown watched him leave, bewildered, then met Wheeljack's hateful glare.

"Better finish me fast," he warned. "Because I'm gonna make you eat each other's bearings if I get out of here."

Breakdown scoffed, and tapped something on Wheeljack's monitor. He felt the pain in his arm and back tingle and fade. "You first," he smirked, picking up a cutting torch and trying to decide if it was the right tool for the job.

Wheeljack experimentally pushed against the restraints again to what he thought had been his limits earlier. His HUD warned him he was pushing his hydraulics beyond their ability, but the wrecker didn't care. He smirked behind Breakdown's back and snapped his battle mask into place.

"Maybe I could have a go at her if …" He barely managed to yelp with surprise when Wheeljack grabbed him from behind in a half nelson. Their struggle knocked over instruments and monitors. But, without the element of surprise and room to charge his adversary, Breakdown couldn't seem to get the upper hand over the wrecker. At last Wheeljack found the prod that had fallen off the table and shocked the Decepticon into stand by.

"Arcee…" He quickly got up off the floor to check for a spark pulse, but a shock from behind made him collapse again.

"Forget someone?" Knockout spat. "Just had to patch up."

The white mech screamed again as Knockout jolted his system. He couldn't get his knees under himself or he would have thrown himself at him.

"I really should just offline both of you, and leave you to rust," he scowled. "But, some of your components are in very short supply."

He zapped him again with satisfaction.

"Like that big, juicy t-cog for one. Your energon pump's the right size for the next time Megatron gets himself blown up. Maybe I could hook Breakdown up with one of your optics for his trouble." He paused to watch Wheeljack writhe on the floor, waiting for him to try getting up again. "What else do I need?"

"You forgot the winch they're gonna need to pull your head out of your ass!" a familiar tiny voice shouted.

Knockout's optics went wide, and he whirled to see who was behind him. He was even more surprised when he saw it wasn't Optimus Prime, escaped from Arachnid's trap, but a tall, green-armored mech throwing a fist into his face.

"Wheeljack!" Miko shouted, running up to face him.

He groaned. "Good work, kid. I was about to give up on you," he smirked. "Good to see she changed your mind," he added, taking Oxbow's offered hand to be hauled to his feet.

"Yeah. Don't mention it," Oxbow said. "Seriously. Don't."

"Sure thing," Wheeljack dismissed. He didn't have time for a recruitment speech. He only cast the unconscious mechs on the floor a cursory glance as he went back to Arcee's table.

"Arcee? What happened to her?!" Miko demanded, watching Wheeljack check for her spark.

"She saved my worthless aft," he growled to himself, wincing when he saw the damage Knockout had done. "She's alive, but we've got to get her back to Ratchet NOW. Get him on the horn … "

"No one's answering," she said, upset.

"Arachnid got them too?!" He couldn't believe it. "FRAG!" He slammed his fist into a cabinet.

"Arachnid?"

"We gotta go," he said, collecting himself and formulating a plan. "Any more 'cons on this boat?"

"No," Oxbow shook his head. "Looks like you cleaned them out."

"If you're not staying, offline these two slag sacks and dump them in the deepest hole you can find," Wheeljack told him before turning down the hall.

Miko ran after him, close at his heels as he ran to the cockpit of the ship.

"Wheeljack! What happened to her? What did they do?"

He fell to his knees and ripped the access panel off of the instrumentation console.

"Wheeljack!"

"He violated her!" he snapped at Miko loud enough to make her shrink back. "She lost her fragging mind, and she … kept him from killing me."

Miko gasped, covering her mouth in shock.

"She's gonna make it," he assured her more gently. "She has to."

He pulled out a circuit board and touched a wire to a delicate component. It snapped a couple times, dimming the lights as the engines hummed to life. They heard blasters and screeching tires in the corridor.

"Scrap," Miko swore. "Oxbow?!"

Oxbow stepped into the room, nursing a blaster wound in the shoulder. "Sorry. Out of practice," he panted. "They got away."

"You getting off?" Wheeljack asked without even acknowledging Ox's statement. "We gotta fly."

Oxbow nodded. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

"Dude, you did plenty," Miko assured. "Thanks for the backup. If I can ever help…"

He shook his head. "Good luck." And, he turned back to the corridor, transforming to get off as quickly as possible.

She felt the ship lurch under her feet as it lifted off. Wheeljack began to set its coordinates in silence. For what felt like hours, she let him stew and keep himself busy and messing with things on the ship, but her mind raced with a hundred questions.

"I didn't know femmes could be raped," she finally said. "Could she get … you know … pregnant?"

"No," he stated sharply, but he regretted his tone immediately seeing Miko's hurt expression. "No," he said more gently. "He would've had to sync with her to even try that. Besides, Arcee chooses if she sparks or not."

"How did he hurt her then?" Arcee had only ever mentioned the robot birds and bees once, and she hadn't wanted to elaborate.

"Look, kid … let's just drop it. You don't have to worry about it." He shook his head more at himself than her she suspected.

"She's my friend too!" Miko snapped at him. "I deserve to know what's happened to her. Don't insult me by trying to sugar-coat it!"

He met her glare uneasily then sighed.

"Arcee said femmes are all the same size," he said, trying to organize his thoughts. "That's because their systems all run at the same slow speed. It has something to do with efficiency and the whole sparking … process. Anyway. Mechs run faster at all different speeds depending on a lot of different factors. If they want to do their thing, a mech has to sync up with a femme first to slow down to her speed. If he doesn't, her defenses will kick in to protect her spark matrix. Depending on what he does and how he does it … a mech can hurt a femme pretty bad." He sighed. "Arcee's been hurt pretty bad," he admitted.

"But, Ratchet can fix her, right?"

"Yes," he said, trying to sound confident, "but only if we can get her to him fast enough. I've flown cargo lifts faster than this hulk."

Miko sighed, hugging her knees to her chest for comfort. She watched Wheeljack. His optics were unsteady, like he was looking between thoughts and arguing with himself on the inside. He was going to lose it.

"So, if there aren't any consequences for her," she said, shaking him from his mental self-punishment, "why doesn't she break loose once in a while and … you know … enjoy a mech's company?"

Wheeljack's face fell. "She's haunted," he said thoughtfully.

"Come again?"

"I heard about Tailgate, and Bulkhead told me about what happened to Cliffjumper." He shook his head. "Anyone's going to hurt when they lose a friend, but if a femme's bonded with a mech and knows his coding as well as her own - then that bond is broken suddenly or violently - it can leave … ghosts."

"Like real ghosts?"

"Well … it's like … I don't know how to explain it. She can feel what they would be thinking if they were in a situation with her."

Miko thought she did. "So, it's like … knowing your dead boyfriend would think a movie was funny?"

"More like thinking you hear them laughing at it while you're watching it."

The idea made her skin prickle.

"I've seen femmes short out with just one in their processor. Arcee's got two of them butting heads in there."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This chapter might get updated later, but I'm just getting too impatient with myself. Again, thanks so much for reading!

* * *

He shuttered his optics against the pain as he got to his feet. His hip and thigh's injuries felt superficial compared to the one through his stomach, but Ratchet knew his leg was in just as critical a condition as his damaged energon lines and alloy modifier.

Primus, how was he going to fix himself if he couldn't heal? Worry about that later, he scolded himself. It had been a while since he'd had to patch himself up, he thought as he put his modifier on stand-by. He didn't have the material to spare for repairs even if it wasn't wasting energon.

Arachnid writhed on the ground, groping for a handhold so she could get her bearings. Four of her six spider legs had been either broken or completely severed, and she was bleeding profusely. He figured he must've knocked an optic offline or scrambled her orientational gyroscope. But, she could still hear him limping toward her.

She summoned her blaster and made a wild shot in his direction. One optic appeared to have been able to access only its infrared mode, but she was struggling to adjust to the waning twilight and it looked unsteady.

Ratchet summoned one bayonet and a blaster, and the sound made her hiss dangerously, shooting in his direction again, much closer than before. He sidestepped off course as quietly as he could.

"You might bleed to death if I wait long enough," he said.

He fired at her, but she rolled out of the way. No one had exaggerated her survival instinct. That was for sure. He didn't doubt if he toyed with her too long, she'd adjust to hunting by sound with deadly accuracy.

"I just have to keep you moving," he pointed out. "Ironically, stamina and agility wouldn't have anything to do with it."

He smirked.

"I thought you Autobots advocated a fair fight," she said, finally opening her optic to find him.

Ratchet quickly summoned his surgical lamp and blinded her again before she could pinpoint his location.

"It started out fair," he reasoned. "And, I didn't know there was a bot hiding here either."

He charged his blaster for a stronger shot, and she ran to the side when she heard it, but he withdrew it to conserve the precious energon and only stunned her into moving again with a smaller blast.

"You're bleeding too," she pointed out.

"I'm a doctor. Don't worry about me," he advised. "You don't have the time or the energon for it, and if you go into involuntary stasis out here, I doubt Megatron will waste resources looking for you before you bleed out."

He fired again, and she stumbled to avoid it, slipping in her own energon.

Warnings were going off on his HUD, announcing a similar situation playing out for himself if he didn't get energon and medical attention soon. But, Optimus was the only one who had any understanding of trauma care beyond basic first aid. He hated to do it, but he didn't have a choice.

"How's this for fair?" he proposed. "Save Optimus and my team, and I'll put you into stasis and stabilize you."

She managed to chuckle. "You think I'm afraid to die?"

"I don't think you'd want to die because Megatron didn't think you were worth saving," he shrugged. "But, if I save you, you're free to go back to him – or live to fight your own fight another day."

Her smile slid to a scowl, but she produced her own remote that she'd planned to bargain with.

"I'm assuming you still have the last coordinates for your ground bridge," she said, pushing the button. "The shadowzone trap they're in takes both of our ground bridges to open it. But, that would be assuming they're still near the location they arrived at."

"And, if no one comes out?" Ratchet asked. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"You don't," she managed to smile.

He scowled, but brought up the control on his HUD. "Fine."

Arachnid thumbed the controls for her ground bridge, and it sounded real enough. A tense silence stretched out for what felt like an eon as he waited for any sign the team had come through. If he wasn't there, they'd call for him immediately.

Come on Optimus … please, he wished sadly. The energon in the tanks could only keep the bridge open for a few minutes at most. But, then there wouldn't be hardly any left if anyone was injured.

"Ratchet? Do you read me?"

He felt dizzy with relief.

"Are you back at base?" he asked.

"Yes. Where are you?"

"It's a long story," he sighed. "Optimus, who won our bet on if Jack would pass his mechanics final?" he demanded.

There was a confused pause.

"I … did not make a wager," Optimus recalled carefully. "I believe it was between you and Arcee."

Ratchet could've wept.

"Thank Primus," he muttered.

"Where are you?"

"Never mind that for now. Shut off the bridge, and I'll send you my coordinates shortly." Ratchet looked around, considering. "Are Jack and Raf there?"

"No."

* * *

The white truck slowed down as it approached an empty stretch of road and stopped on the shoulder. June, Jack, and Raf un-scrunched from their end of the seat to get out, but the driver's side door shut. The radio hissed back on.

"Okay, look," the voice began. "I think we got off on the wrong foot. Getting ripped out of a shut-down by immediate danger to your spark will make anyone cranky."

"Ratchet didn't know," Raf defended.

"Yeah," the radio seemed to growl. "Lucky break, I guess."

They turned onto the road, heading away from town.

"Guess my chances of staying under the radar after all this are slim to none."

"How long have you been hiding here?" Jack asked, getting back behind the wheel cautiously.

Something looked familiar about the truck, but he couldn't remember ever seeing a truck driving itself around town.

"Umm … Let me think … This planet's time is so weird." The radio's static went dead for a moment than crackled back to life, excitedly. "Jasper drive-in had … the new movie was "Idiocracy," and the old movie was … "Snakes on a Plane. Drunken Tow Truck Guy put me in the salvage yard that week, and he hadn't hired Marijuana Tow Truck Guy yet. It was SO much easier to sneak out for energon before he came," he recalled wistfully.

But, it was cut short at the sound of engines approaching fast. The rear view mirror focused on two purple cars coming from the south at reckless speeds.

"Looks like you aren't getting out of heroics today after all," Jack said.

"Says you!" The truck's engine shuddered back to it's Cybertronian counterpart. "Try to stay down, so they don't see you!"

"I thought you said you were almost out of energon," Raf pointed out, looking over the back of the seat one more time before sliding down onto the floorboard so Jack and June had room to get out of sight.

"Fear makes me much more efficient!" the radio said over the road noise. "We don't have a choice anyway. My T-cog's been busted since before I ended up here."

They turned off the road again and started heading west. The terrain couldn't have been easy for the Decepticons since they were much lower to the ground than the truck, but they were still gaining. The distance closed considerably when they hit a rock that popped a tire and possibly bent an axle.

"We'll be safe in your base, right?" it asked hopefully.

"What?!" Jack realized what direction they were headed now. "You know … no, turn around! We can't lead them there!"

"But …"

"Just turn away! We can't let them find the base!"

The truck slammed on it's breaks, leaning heavily toward the side with the flat tire, and the doors opened.

"What are you doing?" Jack demanded, looking to confirm the 'cons were closing in quickly.

"Get out!" it ordered, it's voice wavering. "It's not me they're after."

"You can't just leave us here!" June shouted.

"Can't I?! I've been shot at, blown up, thrown at Decepticons, even had my wheel torn off when one of them rode me down a Pit-damned mountain. I'm entitled to save my own aft just this once!"

The three of them exchanged surprised and unsure glances.

"Fine." Jack scowled at the mirror that turned to him and began moving toward the door again.

June followed Raf as he slid out of his side's door.

"You humans are out of your processors."

"At least we're not cowards," Jack pointed out. "Get out of here! Go on."

The truck backed away as phaser fire began to pepper the dirt and rocks. Then it growled with frustration and swerved back in front of them, blocking the Decepticon's line of sight.

"What … ?" June pulled him back behind it before Jack could argue. "Who's out of their processor now?"

The sound of breaking glass and scorching metal as the weapon fire penetrated the rusty plating grew louder. A tire blew out, then another.

"Just …" It yelped as a shot pierced something sensitive. "I just wanted to go home again," the radio hissed quietly.

Jack's heart stung a little at the confession. He knew the feeling.

"Look!" Raf pointed.

"Yes!" June sobbed with relief.

In the distance, a red semi, a green armored SUV, and a yellow Urbana were racing toward them, kicking up dust in the sunset. It only took a few shots after they transformed to scatter the Decepticons and blow them to pieces.

Jack jumped to his feet and ran around to the other side. It looked like a cheese grater dripping a steady stream of energon like a cracked engine block.

"Optimus! You have to help him!"

The prime looked at the perforated white metal doubtfully, kneeling down to inspect it closer.

Bumblebee chirped and toned an unhappy string of sounds.

"I think he is beyond our help," Optimus said gravely.

"Who was he?" Bulkhead asked.

Jack shook his head. "He didn't say. He's was just sleeping in the junk yard west of town when Ratchet picked him out."

Optimus rolled the truck onto it's side, tracing the rusted lines that had been transformation joints.

"His T-cog was broke," Raf explained. "So, all he could do was run."

"I do not believe he had weapons even if he had been able to change," Optimus said.

"Yeah. He didn't act like a fighter. That's for sure," Jack admitted.

"It appears that he was not fully mature."

"You can tell that?" June asked, pained.

Optimus pointed out the voids in the truck's undercarriage. "This form was a strain on him, and the degradation of the metal of his plating is from the poor alloys he had consumed or the lack thereof after his T-cog was broken."

"Primus," Bulkhead shuddered. "What a way to go. Starving to death, all cramped up in an uncomfortable vehicle mode."

"But, he was getting energon," Jack remembered.

"Energon gets you around," the wrecker explained. "But, if you're injured or still growing, the metal has to come from somewhere."

Bumblebee whirred a question, but Bulkhead only shrugged.

"I suspect his guardians paid to have him evacuated from Cybertron when the war began," Optimus answered. "His escape pod must have orbited until it picked up on signals from Earth after we arrived."

"So, why not ask you guys for help?" Jack pointed out. "He knew what direction the base was, and … and he'd seen you lots of times."

"Probably scared to," Bulkhead concluded. "If he left before the slag hit the fan blades on Cybertron, he might not have understood which of us were the good guys."

Bumblebee posed an argument, irritably.

"But, he said you guys were trashing him as often as the Decepticons," Raf added.

Optimus vented a sigh and sat the truck back on its wheels.

"Losing younglings is always … unfortunate."

Jack nodded, deciding not to share what the kid's last words had been to keep from crushing morale even further.

* * *

She was SO switching to Verizon when they got back to Jasper – because AT&T's signal at armor-clad spaceship cruising altitude sucked. After trying a few more places in the cargo hold with no luck, Miko snapped it shut, frustrated all over again.

She began walking back to the front but saw the med bay door was open. Wheeljack stood beside the table, working on Arcee's exposed components in thoughtful silence.

"Didn't know you were a doctor too," she said, making him look up.

"I'm not," he admitted regretfully. "Just a mechanic. But, that's been enough to lick my own wounds more times than I can count."

Miko climbed up to where Arcee lay.

"She's still losing energon somewhere. Maybe bleeding internally," he sighed, shaking his head. "I only hope this patch-job will hold out."

"What about her … you know … ?"

Wheeljack glanced at the rend in Arcee's abdomen and grimaced.

"Without her awake to tell us, I can't even make an educated guess."

He picked up a hemostat from the tray and tried parting the intact lines to find the one that was cut. Miko carefully put her fingers in, avoiding the sharp metal, and found the jagged, slippery end to pull out for him. Wheeljack took it from her and clamped it shut.

Jack would wish he was here, but she was glad it was her. Miko wanted to cry every time she looked at Arcee, but if it had been Bulkhead on the table … she couldn't even think about it.

She sat down and slipped a hand around one of the femme's slender fingers.

"Did you find anymore energon?"

"No. It looks like Knockout wasn't stocked up for _saving_ sparks."

He picked up the one cylinder of medical-grade energon on the tray with his tools and loaded it into a hypodermic.

"Hopefully, this will get her out of the red at least," he said, puncturing the fuel line at Arcee's elbow. "She'll be fine," he tried to convince himself as much as Miko. "Ratchet will be able to …"

An explosion rocked the ship, knocking the mech off his feet and nearly throwing Miko off.

"Just what we didn't need," Wheeljack growled. "Must've missed a tracking beacon."

He grabbed Miko off the table and ran back to the cockpit. After tapping commands into a station, six Decepticons appeared on the monitors.

"Just six?" Miko asked doubtfully.

"Against one pilot and no weapons," Wheeljack pointed out.

"Scrap."

"Exactly."

She watched him bring up the communications console one more time.

"Omega One, do you copy?" he asked the silence.

He grabbed the yoke, but the ship wasn't agile enough to dodge another shot. All he could do was steer out of the impact.

"Omega One, this is Wheeljack! Is anyone there?" He swiped it off of the monitor angrily. "Frag."

"Can you out fly them?"

"Yeah. In the Jackhammer," he said irritably, looking between monitors. Another shot made them lurch forward in their seats. He snarled, flipping a row of switches overhead. "Lucky for us, this thing's built like a tank's ugly sister."

He spoke too soon.

Another explosion jarred the ship and left the whole place vibrating with a nerve-wracking noise. Wheeljack tested the steering with undesirable results.

"Too bad the rudder's not as tough as the rest of her."

"What now?"

He set the auto pilot and got up, grabbing her again and setting her on the console.

"This button talks to me," he explained. "I need you to watch the monitors while I'm gone."

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

"Gotta fix our tail and provide some fire power."

"Are you crazy?!"

"Absolutely," he agreed. "But, if we land, Arcee will run out of time. If there's a chance we can stay in the air, we've got to take it."

Miko was really starting to regret getting out of bed that morning.

He sealed the cockpit, and a moment later the alarm went off warning her that the cargo hatch was open.

"That's right, scatter!" she heard Wheeljack shout over the wind through the radio.

In the monitors, she watched the 'cons split up into pairs, avoiding the shots of blue energy.

"They're coming over the top," she warned. "And two under us. I can't see the others!"

"Gotcha," he confirmed. "I'm coming up a maintenance ladder behind the monitor above you."

"You should have the drop on them."

Wheeljack laughed. "Five to go!"

She confirmed the smoking fireball in the rear cargo camera as it fell out of view.

"Still two of them hanging out under us."

He came into view on the monitor, on his hands and knees following a row of hand holds in the metal. Phaser fire peppered the hull along one side of him as he shielded his optics. He shouted something in Cybertronian when a shot hit him in his shoulder and through his winglet.

"Are you hurt bad?" she demanded.

He straightened to return fire angrily. "I'm fine," he grunted. "Almost there."

"Wheeljack …"

Another explosion from below her made her vision dance as she tried to keep her footing, and a warning light began flashing. To her horror, the yoke came free from it's auto pilot position, and Miko felt the nose of the ship begin to go down.

"Miko?! What's happening?"

"I think they broke the auto pilot!"

"Pull up!" he shouted frantically.

"How?!"

Desperate, she abandoned the comm and slid down to the shaft of the yoke. Miko braced herself on her hands and feet between it and the console and pushed against the yoke with everything she had. She felt the ship begin to level out, but then she felt something snap through the shaft and barely had enough time to save her foot from being amputated. The ship began to plummet again.

"Wheeljack!" she screamed, but without the button being pushed, he couldn't hear her.

A hand grabbed her around the middle and tossed her back into the other seat. She whirled around to see if he'd made it back in time, but it was Arcee who'd taken the wheel with her only hand. The femme hauled back on it with all of her strength.

"Arcee!"

"I can't leave you two alone for … ten minutes," she strained.

"Miko? Miko!"

Arcee looked at the communications console. She couldn't spare a hand to operate it.

"I'm okay," Miko assured, jumping back onto the button. "Arcee saved us."

"What?"

"Don't you have 'cons to offline?" Arcee asked.

The comm was quiet for a long minute.

"Take it easy," he finally decided to warn.

"I'm trying," she said. "Just … just hurry up. The power steering is shot."

Trying didn't mean she was succeeding. Her optics looked dull with pain. There was energon at the corners of her mouth, and it was leaking onto her seat.

"We've got to land and fight," the femme declared.

"No. Wheeljack said we can't waste time or you'll lose your …"

"To the Pit with my matrix!" she snapped. "I'm not letting anyone get killed because of me again!"

Suddenly, the vibrations stopped.

"Arcee? Did that fix the steering? Try the pedals on the …"

"I know how to fly!" she snapped but visibly tried to calm herself as she pressed a foot onto one of them. "The instruments say we're changing course. Good job, Wheeljack."

"Was that a compliment?" he teased, despite the sound of weapons firing in the background.

"Just get your aft back in here and land this thing."

"Not yet. I still got two more buzzing around us."

"Wheeljack!"

"If they hit the rudder or the ailerons again, we aren't landing. We're crashing."

"I can't hold on much longer," she warned.

Miko looked to see the energon dripping onto the floor now – as much as he'd put in her and maybe then some.

"Arcee?" she said gently.

"One more to go," the radio announced.

"Stasis override in 3 minutes," the femme said through clenched teeth. "Tell him to …"

"Wheeljack, kill it on the way back to the cargo door!" Miko shouted.

"Wheeljack, this is Omega One. Do you copy?" Bulkhead's voice broke in over the commlink.

Miko looked around for a button to answer him.

"How do I answer the commlink?" she asked frantically. Arcee was too busy staying conscious to answer.

"Oh, now they call back!" Wheeljack said, irritated.

"Two minutes …" Arcee strained.

"Jackie? We got your messages. What the frag is going on? Answer me!" Bulkhead demanded.

Wheeljack had disappeared past the edge of the upper monitor and was hopefully back on the ladder to the cargo door.

"Ninety seconds."

"Miko had better be okay," Bulkhead warned.

"Shut up, Bulk!" she yelled at the commlink.

"Miko, I'm coming back … ARGH!"

She looked around the monitors, but there was no sign of him.

"Wheeljack? Wheeljack, are you okay? Wheeljack?!"

The ship lurched forward, and she looked in time to see Arcee fumble to catch the yoke again.

"Just a little longer, Arcee …" she said, trying to encourage her.

"Sixty seconds," she replied automatically. "Miko. Get … to the back of the ship. Find something solid to hide behind."

"WHEELJACK!" Miko screamed at the radio.

"Stop … yelling," he stammered at last.

"Are you okay? Can you get back?"

She heard a thud on the cockpit door, and when it opened, the white mech all but fell in.

"Hurry!" Arcee ordered.

He steadied himself on an injured leg and hobbled back to the pilot seat. Arcee slid out and onto the floor and didn't move again. Wheeljack grabbed the yoke and leveled the ship out. He flipped a switch over his head.

"Omega One, are you there?"

"Jackie! Where are you guys?"

"Somewhere over … Why-oh-ming? … according to the charts. Any chance we can get a bridge? Arcee needs Ratchet NOW."

"But, we don't have enough for a …" But, it sounded like he was shoved out of the way.

"What's happened?" Ratchet demanded. "Is she hurt?"

"She's hurt bad," the wrecker explained. "Knockout … he cut the energon lines, and I think the connection, to her spark matrix."

"No …" Ratchet breathed. "How long has it been disconnected? When did it happen?!"

The white mech thought about it, his face falling.

"Wheeljack, I need to know!" Ratchet demanded. "A spark matrix can't survive longer than …"

"Couple hours, give or take," he finally said. "I … I didn't think to start a timer. I'm so stupid …"

There was silence on the other end.

"Optimus. Ratchet. I couldn't do anything … I'm sorry."

"Just get her back here!" Ratchet shouted. "I don't want your apologies! I want Arcee alive. She needs a ground bridge as soon as Wheeljack sends coordinates," he ordered someone else at the base. Probably so he could go get med bay ready.

"Is it safe to land here?" Miko asked.

"Kid, I'd park on Fowler's front lawn right now if it was the closest place to set down."

Fortunately, the closest place was open grassland without any sign of civilization. Wheeljack quickly punched in the coordinates.

"Make it fast, Wheeljack," Ratchet ordered. "We barely have enough energon in the tanks to open the bridge."

"We'll hit the ground running," he assured. "You just be ready for the worst."

He scooped the limp femme up and offered Miko a shoulder. They ran back to the cargo hold where the door was still open just as the air began to crackle. When they came through the bridge, everyone was watching.

"Arcee!" Jack sobbed seeing her lifeless form cradled in the wrecker's arms and energon staining the white plating on Wheeljack's front and legs, but Bumblebee grabbed him and held him back.

Miko ran to Bulkhead and hugged his foot. She felt selfish, but she was glad it wasn't him in the same situation again.

"She's still got a pulse," Wheeljack quickly explained to Ratchet. "I stopped what I could, but …"

"Get her on the table!" Ratchet commanded. "Arcee? Arcee, can you hear me?!"

Jack watched him confirm Wheeljack's statement and shine a light in her dimmed optics both with apparently undesirable results. When Ratchet connected her diagnostics system to a monitor, the sound of a rapid pulse filled the silence of the room.

"Arcee, stay with me," he said over the noise. "If you can hear me, Arcee …"

He cleaned away the energon to get a better idea of the damage and stripped away her armor plating to make room to work.

"By the AllSpark," he muttered, pausing to look away and take a collective and cooling breath to settle his nerves.

"You need lines or tools or … anything? I've got a med kit in the Jackhammer," Wheeljack offered desperately. "Ratchet?"

"I need energon!" he snapped at him, looking up from soldering delicate wires together. "She's lost too much!"

"Was there any on the Decepticon ship?" Optimus asked.

"Not much." Wheeljack shook his head. "I gave her a transfusion, but she bled it out."

"Is there any in storage that we haven't processed yet?" Bulkhead asked, hopefully.

Wheeljack looked between them then his optics fell to the tools on Ratchet's table. "Frag that," he said, picking up an empty hypodermic cylinder. "It'll take too long. You mechs aren't afraid of needles are you?"

They watched him stick himself in one of his arm's fuel lines, and the glowing blue liquid filled it.

Bumblebee beeped and chirped excitedly, offering his arm.

"Yeah. Me too," Bulkhead nodded. "I don't have much to spare, but Cee can have it if it'll help."


	6. Chapter 6

Jee, I wonder why all these views suddenly started pouring in for this fic. :D

Too bad I'm about to disappoint you with such a poopy chapter. But, I'd written and re-written Chapter 6 enough times to have re-typed War and Peace and was absolutely struggling with it. So I took a month off, wrote some fun and satisfying smut (should've kept my money on Wheeljack), read a lot of great fics, and got inspired again when the canon came right out with a WheeljackxArcee _nudge-nudge, hint-hint, wink-wink _that just made me squeal. But, I still found it a chore to write when I came back, so I tied up all the loose ends as painlessly as I could in so I can get back to the fun writing.

I'll try to get Chapter 7 up fast to make it up to you. Hopefully, I'll have it done before Friday in case they throw another curve ball at us. Somehow, I sense another Cliffjumper flashback that's going to reset everything we know and love.

As always, all reviews are welcomed and appreciated.

* * *

"Arcee? Arcee! Can you hear me?"

'Ratchet?'

She thought she turned her optics on and looked at him, but the medic didn't seem to notice when he pressed her brow back to shine a light into them. She tried to say something, but her body couldn't move. It only came out as a voice in her processor.

"Oh Primus, please …" Ratchet whispered, spraying sterile cleanser in her abdomen. "Get back!" he snapped at someone beyond her range of vision. "Let her ventilate!"

He looked like slag. Had he been fighting? Who? Hopefully, he'd won.

He shook his helm in frustration and returned to her exposed circuitry and fuel lines grimacing at what the cleanser had revealed.

"No. No, no, no …" he sobbed.

'It's alright, Ratchet,' she said in her mind, wishing she could comfort him. 'Do what you can.'

She felt his steady hands inside her, but it didn't hurt like she expected. His voice calling to her to stay with him, grew dull and quiet. Arcee saw him summon his welding torch again and lean over her. Wiring was shifted back into place, but it all felt like a dream within a dream.

"… Arcee!" Ratchet shouted from far away. He took her helm in his gentle fingertips again and met her optics. For a second, she was convinced he saw her awake, but she saw energon tears in his blue optics. It occurred to her that she could see the overhead light through his face, like he was fading.

A fast but constant beep she'd not registered until now fell into a single steady tone. Then, even it faded and all that was left was her and the light over her.

'Ratchet?'

But, she was alone. Only darkness stretched out on all sides of her. Was this what it was like joining the Well? But, the light seemed to be shrinking. That didn't seem right.

She heard footsteps approaching in what sounded like a large empty room, and someone solid stood over her, silhouetted against the harsh brightness.

"Hey there, Beautiful," a familiar voice smiled. "You get lost?"

Arcee felt a hand take hers, and the shadow shifted to sit on her berth, bringing it into his lap. Now, she recognized the blue and white armor, and it made her spark ache.

'Tailgate,' her processor echoed.

The mech smiled and brought his other hand to her cheek. She felt tears sting her optics at the memory as she touched it with hers and turned her head to kiss his palm.

'I'm sorry …' she began, but Tailgate shook his head, stilling her lips with his thumb.

"Plenty of time for that later," he said, leaning over her. "Right now, we've got to get you back."

She hurt she wanted to kiss him so badly, but as soon as their lips touched, the dream was jolted away from her as her body convulsed with shock.

"Arcee!" Ratchet was over her again. "Stay with me!"

But, as soon as the scene was back it began to slow and fade again.

"Wheeljack! I need you to hold pressure on this," he ordered.

She saw the wrecker come into view and look down at her. He complied obediently, but when he seemed to meet her optics, his usually stoic facade wavered.

"Arcee?" he whispered, glancing up to see what Ratchet was doing. "Come on. You can beat this. I know you can."

"Hold this," Ratchet said, shoving something into Wheeljack's other hand. "You're going to have to …"

But, he sounded too far away to make out anything again. Once more there was only the shrinking light and the growing dark.

"Cee?"

Hands cupped her face from behind her head. Cliffjumper looked down at her and smiled playfully. She choked back tears, but tried to smile for him as he bent closer to let her touch his face. Cliffjumper caught her hand in his and kissed the fingertips. Arcee sobbed, pulling him closer so she could feel his warm energy field and his kisses on her cheeks.

"I almost get the impression you missed me," he teased.

'Every day,' she whispered. 'I miss you every day, Cliff.'

"I told you I was hard to get over," he smiled, but it quickly sobered. "Time to go."

'No!' she protested, turning her face away. 'Please! I don't want to leave you. I'm sorry, Cliff. Please …'

He backed away enough to meet her optics again, his face somber and considering.

"Cee …" he sighed. "I can't let you."

'You can! Just let me stay …'

He glanced up at the shrinking light above them then back at her, shaking his helm. "No." His tone was firm. "You have to live. For Prime, for the team, for the war … for Jack."

'But …'

"I'll be here," he promised. "So will Tailgate. Call it a date."

'I love you,' she rushed to say.

The red mech grimaced painfully. "I know." He nodded and crushed his lips to hers before he could change his mind.

She was jolted back to Ratchet's med bay again, only now it was harsh and bright and every part of her body remembered to hurt at once. Arcee groaned softly.

"Doc, she's back! Arcee, can you hear me?" Wheeljack was over her now, holding her head in his hands. "Arcee!"

"Give her some air," Ratchet ordered, shoving him aside. He pressed his sensors to the wires in her neck. "Thank Primus."

"Does she need more?" Wheeljack said, butting in closer again.

The medic took her hand and squeezed it. "No. She's stable enough to go into stasis and heal."

Arcee winced away from the light he shown in her optics again, but gripped his hand like he wanted. He smiled down at her, and she watched as he took a syringe off of his tray and inserted it into her fuel line.

"I'll bring that 'Con's head back on the end of his prod." The medic looked over his shoulder to where Wheeljack had moved. Now that the fear had passed, he was back to his old self.

"And what good would it do us to save one soldier only to lose another?" Ratchet reasoned.

"Who said anything about losing?"

The medic scowled dangerously and got up to turn and face him.

Scrap. Arcee tried to move, tried to say something, but the medicine was already deadening her coherency. The tension crackled in the two mechs' energy fields like static as they squared off.

"Don't be a fool!" he snapped. "She risked everything to save your sorry aft. Her life, her ability to spark – not just that, either – OUR whole reason for fighting!"

The wrecker's face darkened as he stepped to face the challenger. "Last time I checked, we were fighting to save Cybertron."

"What good is having Cybertron back, if there are no generations after ours to enjoy it?" he demanded. The tension left Wheeljack's features. "Do not cheapen what she almost sacrificed for you."

* * *

_One week later … _

The left stabilizer had been bent and repaired so many times it was a miracle the Jackhammer flew straight. At least, that was his excuse for cutting it off completely. Nothing soothed his frayed circuitry like losing himself in the sparks and sound of an angle grinder and an ion welder. Bulkhead had offered to help him, but he'd insisted on doing it alone so it got done right. It had taken him two days to completely rebuild the fin, and that was after he'd overhauled both thrusters, cleaned the ship from top to bottom, inside and out, recalibrated the targeting system, and stripped and cleaned all of the phasers.

Wheeljack vented a heavy sigh, shutting off the grinder and running his palm over the smoothed weld. He'd done better. Maybe he should cut the panel off and do it over … No. This was ridiculous. He leaned back against the landing gear. When was the last time he'd stayed in one place this long? Primus, not since … well, since Cybertron. It was eating at him. He knew Ratchet would tell him if she pulled through. But, would he tell him if she didn't?

As his audio receptors adjusted, he realized he heard music – a repetitive, pulsing beat that was just barely audible in the quiet of the base. Must be what the humans called Friday night. He hadn't seen Jack's mother here dragging him out of med bay for school the next day. Poor kid. How did a species that lived such short lives form such strong bonds? And, how had one broken through the battle-worn femme's hardened defenses in such a short time? He shook his head at his thoughts and turned back to his project.

"Wheeljack."

He looked back at the sound of Ratchet's voice. He'd avoided the medic since he'd patched up his shoulder. Ratchet had gladly repaid the courtesy until now.

"I need you to … do something. Please."

"Kind of busy here," he pointed out, turning to face him.

"Could you check on Arcee?" he asked, ignoring his terseness.

"What? I thought that was your job. I'm no doctor."

"I realize that," he humphed. "That's partly the reason I need you," he added more humbly.

Wheeljack arched a brow at him, curious, but didn't put down the grinder.

"I've worked on her so many times, she knows my energy field too well. She associates it with … care and treatment. Optimus is her superior officer. Bulkhead and Bumblebee are her teammates. It's just a chance … but … since she won't respond to any of us, maybe yours could … do something."

"Me? She hardly knows me!" he scoffed with disbelief.

"True, but you have … feelings for her. Don't you?"

"Whoa, whoa," Wheeljack interrupted, holding his hands up in mock defense. "I was just giving her a hard time."

"Then why have you stuck around for so long waiting for her to heal?"

"I'm fixing my ship."

Ratchet gave a dry chuckle. "So, you're not attracted to her at all?"

Wheeljact shrugged, feeling caged. "I don't know …"

"You don't know," the medic scoffed disdainfully.

"Well, I … I wouldn't put a bag over her head if she was feeling …"

There wasn't a wrench around, but a mallet made a good enough substitute. The medic moved too quick to dodge.

"Hey! You asked!" he shouted before gingerly fingering the painful dent in his helm.

"Just get in there!" the old bot bit with finality.

Wheeljack didn't want anymore of his tools thrown at him – they only got bigger and sharper after the mallet.

The walls felt like they were shrinking in around him the closer he got to the music. It hurt to see a tough bot like Arcee so weak. That's what was wrong, he told himself. He was dreading seeing her was all. But, a weight seemed to lift off of his spark when he sidestepped past the privacy screens that had been erected around the medical berth. She was healed almost completely now and just appeared to be in a deep recharge.

"Finally decide to pay a visit?" Jack sat on the berth beside the femme's shoulders, a scornful look on his face. He turned off the tablet he'd been reading, setting it in his lap protectively.

"Doctor's orders," he dismissed with a shrug. "He seems to think I might be able to bring her around."

"By annoying her awake?" the human asked, watching as Wheeljack pulled up a crate and sat at the side of the berth facing him.

In the kid's defense, Wheeljack would be pretty slagged off too if his friend almost threw their spark away to save some ungrateful scraplet.

"Something like that," the wrecker said flatly, picking up Arcee's limp hand in his fingertips.

Jack bristled noticeably.

"Cool your engines," the mech advised. "I'll be out of your circuits in a few minutes. But, it'll take longer if I have to do this on the defensive."

Jack sighed and looked back at her placid face, deciding to accept the truce. "Want me to turn off the music?"

"You don't have to. I didn't know she even liked Earth music."

"Yeah well, there's a lot you don't know about her."

Wheeljack ignored the jab, shuttering his optics. It felt uncomfortable opening up his usually well-guarded energy field to what felt like no one. But, he vented a cleansing sigh and focused on his memories and the emotions that had accompanied them regarding the femme before him. The freshest was white-hot anger at Knockout, but he didn't dwell on it. That wasn't why he was here. Instead, he diverted to the much more primal and pure-feeling sense of protectiveness the entire ordeal had stirred up in him. It had been his place to protect her, and he had failed. Regret permeated his emotions for a moment.

The music helped shake it, helped him concentrate again.

He went back further – to her beside him as they fought past the vehicons. The mech felt his hydraulics tighten and hoped Jack didn't notice. He willed himself to not hold back any of the lust he'd felt while he watched her fight. And, when she'd brushed up against him and he'd felt her spark racing with excitement and her own arousal, he'd barely been able to keep his electrodes in check. If it had stopped after the vehicons … if Breakdown and Knockout hadn't shown up … Primus.

He'd wanted her before. It was difficult to think of her before he'd seen her prowess and intelligence or felt the searing wrath of her take-no-slag attitude, but before all that, he'd first laid optics on a sleek and beautiful femme who'd perked up her winglets in interest at the new mech in base. If it'd been anyone else's team but Optimus Prime's, he'd have pulled out all the stops to exploit her curiosity.

The music changed to some screeching guitar and screaming vocals, jarring him out of his concentration and making Jack jump to grab up his cellphone.

"Sorry," he grumbled. "Miko got a hold of it a while back. I'm still weeding them out."

The wrecker shook his head. "It's alright. I'm not helping anything anyway," Wheeljack dismissed. He gently put Arcee's hand back under the thermal blanket. "Probably scaring her deeper into stasis."

"No. Please," Jack said, getting to his feet to face him more levelly. "Keep trying. It feels different from the others'."

"What does?"

"Your … energy … field – thing."

Wheeljack felt his faceplate heat. "I didn't know humans could … feel them."

"Not all humans, I'm sure. It's just us three, and it's only when you guys are being real open about it – like when Ratchet doesn't want anyone bothering him. Or, when Arcee used to get super _angry_ at us."

The mech nodded, smirking. "So, Doc's had everyone in here trying this. My dirty old processor was just the last resort."

"Whatever the reason, it might work," Jack pleaded. Wheeljack eyed him skeptically, but a thought occurred to him.

"Because it doesn't feel the same as the other bots'."

"Right. Optimus and the rest all felt like … how my skin sort of prickles when a storm's coming. Yours is stronger – like a … like a train. One of the big diesel-electric ones. There's no sound, but I can still feel it in my guts and the hair on the back of my neck. Like standing beside one while it's powering up from idle to start moving."

Well, Wheeljack was definitely done revving his train up while Jack was watching.

"Maybe later. I can't concentrate now."

Jack slumped, looking back at his guardian.

"She'll come out of it, Jack," he assured, moving a hand to pat his back but reconsidering. "Arcee's made of stronger stuff than a lot of mechs I've fought with, and that's saying something."

He didn't doubt what he said. The question was if her matrix would heal and she'd wake up in Jack's fleeting lifetime. He didn't want to think about that.

"You said Arcee read that before?"

Jack turned the tablet over in his hands. He'd forgotten he had been holding it.

"Lots of times," he shrugged. "She liked it … _likes_ it … more when I read for her." He smiled a little. "She said you guys either read too fast or you just download the whole thing in one go, so a good book isn't the same experience. Not really much use for fiction on Cybertron if that's the case. But, if I read it slow – at the speed of the action – she got it."

Wheeljack looked up, Googling the concept over the data net. Admittedly, he didn't really get it either.

"Well, let's try this," he offered. "I'll leave my field open, and you read. Maybe if she feels what I'm feeling from it while listening to you …"

Jack nodded. "Sure. Maybe." His excitement made the mech feel guilty, but he settled back in, taking her hand once more.

"No looking up the ending though. That ruins it."

"Fine. Fine."

It turned out that was harder said than done. Less than a chapter in, he was impatient to know what happened. If Wheeljack had simply downloaded the book, he would've instantly had the satisfaction of knowing its beginning, middle, and end. But, it would've been as pointless as an inaccurate history file.

Even coming into the story late, he understood why Arcee liked the book. It was about a group of elderly humans at the end of their useful lives who volunteered to have their consciousness transferred to new bodies with super speed, strength, endurance, and dexterity. They became part of an intergalactic military defending the human colonies from aliens. Entertaining as all that was from the viewpoint of a species that was barely in its infancy of space exploration, the protagonist found out that his dead mate's DNA was used to make a _super _super soldier and was given a clean start with no memory of him, and he accidentally runs into her on the black opps team.

It was fascinating to the point the wrecker kept Jack up until 4am when his voice began to give out.

"Sorry, kid," he smiled. "Want me to take you home so you can power down?"

Jack got to his feet and stretched. "Thanks, but I'll just crash on the couch," he yawned. "Just in case anything changes."

"Try again tomorrow."

"Sure thing."

He watched him go and got to his feet, looking down at Arcee again.

"Don't make a liar out of me," he warned her. "He needs you to wake up." He put her hand back under the blanket and paused for thought. "So do I," he added more quietly. "I owe you a lot – a thank you, for starters. Maybe an apology. And, a whole lot more after that."


	7. Chapter 7

I made a serious effort to force some hanky-panky in here, but I swear sometimes this fic writes itself, and I'm just here for proofreading. Wheeljack and Arcee were too stubborn, and I didn't want to change the T rating. Admittedly, I've also been cheating on 'Little Femmes' and saving all of my good trashy scene ideas for my other TF:P fic, 'Land of Confusion.' I don't have many, and I can't afford to waste them on characters that won't do what I want. You'll have to settle for soul-searching and meaningful romance.

* * *

Lightning lit up the cramped domicile brilliantly, rousing her from a deep and peaceful recharge, then an almost instantaneous crack of deafening thunder startled her, making her squeak in surprise before the terror of the unknown crept in. The sparkling studied the lights flickering and dancing across the walls and ceiling of the dark room, afraid to even ventilate. Another crash of light and sound brought tears to her optics, and she keened shrilly, reaching out for the comfort of a familiar energy field.

It enveloped her like a thermal blanket, calming her immediately. A large, worn hand rolled her over to face one blue and indigo optic in the blackness.

"Just an electrical storm, Sparkler," he whispered, scooping her tender protoform close.

He vented warm air over her and she felt him smile when she reached out to touch his face. He caught her tiny fingers in his lips and chuckled softly.

Lightning flashed again, lighting up his battle-worn faceplate and dead optic for an instant, and she tensed up, anticipating the noise. It wasn't as close this time.

"You're safe," he promised.

A squared fingertip nudged her audio receptor then traced her face. She chirred softly for him, and a heavy feeling of security permeated her senses. He let her nestle close against him beneath his chin and idled his engines for her.

Nothing could hurt her.

Lulled by the warmth and sound and the confidence in his energy field, recharge began to overtake her again. She tried to relay her comfort to him through her field.

"Arcee?"

She flinched in surprise at the voice and onlined her optics. It wasn't the ceiling of the old berth room she remembered.

"Welcome back."

And, it wasn't her sire's voice. Arcee turned her head stiffly to look at Optimus and made a feeble attempt at returning the prime's slight smile.

"You were reaching out in your recharge," he explained. "I hope that they were pleasant dreams."

She tried to sit up, and he offered her a hand.

"I … haven't dreamed for a long time," she admitted. "It was strange, but … nice."

"It was about family?" he asked.

It was a little out of character for Optimus to be so curious about personal matters, but when she checked her chronometer and saw that she had been in stasis for twelve days, Arcee couldn't blame him for wondering what had finally pulled her out.

"I felt you reach through a familial bond," he explained.

He wouldn't have been able to answer her. Only creators, siblings, or mechs she'd formed a bond with could. And, since Optimus probably hadn't been sending her the typical emotions of an intimate mech, he'd come to the only logical conclusion.

"It felt like my sire," she said softly, almost with remorse for losing the dream.

The prime nodded thoughtfully then gave a half-laugh.

"I suppose I have been compared to worse mechs."

Arcee smiled. Her sire had been in charge of the last Autobot base closest to Kaon. Ultra Magnus had assigned him to the task personally because he knew the veteran's strict adherence to protocol and ruthless determination would be what it took to hold the position for the millennia that he had.

"It was a compliment," she assured. "He was a little more lenient behind closed doors."

"And, he did well raising an invaluable soldier."

She quailed slightly under the praise, but stopped him when he reached to comm Ratchet.

"Don't wake him yet. I … need a few minutes."

"Ratchet will not be happy about being delayed."

Arcee nodded. She understood, but she wasn't ready to be bombarded with countless tests and a thorough, if not invasive, examination.

Reminded, her hand went to her abdomen and found a weld scar across the plating. Carefully, she navigated through menus and directories on her HUD to where her spark matrix waited in standby as always.

"He did it," she murmured.

"He will be relieved to know."

"What happened?" she asked.

The last she'd heard, Optimus had been trapped in the shadow zone with Bumblebee and Bulkhead.

"Ratchet managed to coerce Arachnid into giving up her spacebridge settings."

"Is that why he looked beat all to scrap?!" she bristled.

The thought of her enemy hurting Ratchet made her energon run cold. Optimus lay a calming hand on her shoulder.

"Despite his current position, Ratchet is capable of holding his own in combat," he assured. Then, he smiled again, mirth obvious in his optics. "You should ask him about the details yourself. He is quite proud of himself."

Arcee couldn't help but chuckle. "I bet he is," she smiled. "So, there was enough energon for all of our injuries?"

"No." His tone became serious once more. "We were forced to do several emergency transfusions to save you. But, the refugee that assisted you and Wheeljack … He was fast enough to move the bait from your ambush site to a new location before the Decepticons returned. He would not meet with us." Optimus shook his head sadly. "He only sent Wheeljack the coordinates and wished us luck."

For an instant, she felt bad for heckling Oxbow, but he'd probably done it because the 'poor, helpless femme' had been injured just as he'd warned.

She vented a sigh and swung her legs over the side of the medical berth. She didn't like how close he'd come to being right. Just thinking about the other possible outcomes made the room feel tight and suffocating.

"Any chance you'd let me slip out for some air?" she asked without much hope.

Optimus got to his feet and watched Arcee do the same, studying the femme.

"I will not risk you breaking down away from base. Ratchet would dismantle me."

Arcee nodded. It didn't hurt to try. Maybe he'd let her go up top at least.

"However," the prime continued. "Ratchet has had very little uninterrupted recharge of late." He opened the door and stood in the frame, looking back at her. "I suppose a few Earth hours would not hurt, but only if you allow Wheeljack to escort you in case of any complications.

"Wheeljack? What's he doing back so soon?"

"You misunderstand," he said bluntly, but smiled a little. "He has not left."

Arcee felt her plating tingle with the implications as she watched him go. She followed after him and watched his retreating back for a few paces before looking down the corridor in the other direction toward the main room.

'Frag it all, Optimus,' she thought sourly.

She was surprised to feel only the emotions tied to her own opinions given the circumstances. Tailgate or Cliff's opinions usually rose to the surface easily when she was feeling irritated. Come to think of it, they definitely should have answered her in her dream. But, when Arcee tried to reach out for them willingly, it felt like …

The sound of the repair lift's hydraulics startled her from her thoughts, and Arcee heard a grinder turn on for a moment. The main room was dark except for the floodlights over the elevator platform. The Jackhammer had been cleaned off, and she saw the flicker and glow of metal sparks showering from beneath it, casting the wrecker's shadow.

He had his back to her as she approached. The mech probably wouldn't have noticed if she just left, but Optimus _would_ check. Arcee stepped closer as he pulled the tool away to inspect his work. He grumbled something about the primitive tools before reaching for the welder.

"Looks like …"

"Fraggin' PIT!" Wheeljack yelped, fumbling to keep from dropping the welder and falling back on his aft. Then, he spun on her, holding it like he intended to use the tool as a weapon,

Arcee smirked at him as she watched the reflexive surges ease out of the mech's hydraulics.

"Sorry."

"Primus …" he sighed, turning the flame off.

"You act like you just saw a ghost."

"Something like that. Make some noise or an energy field or … something when you sneak up on a guy!" he scolded to cover his wounded pride. "I could've knocked you back into stasis."

Arcee rolled her optics but smiled, trying hard not to laugh.

"Please. I don't let my guard down – unlike some bots I know. I was ready for you."

To her surprise, Wheeljack didn't offer a return fire. Instead he relaxed back against his ship, rubbing the tension out of his neck supports.

"Yeah. Guess I've been a bit out of it," he admitted. "Between getting this scrap heap back in order and chauffeuring your human around, the only recharge I get's when I'm parked behind the dumpster at KO."

"Sounds like somebody should've warned you about the consequences for putting one of us in the med bay."

"I wouldn't have signed up for it. That's for sure," he grumped.

Arcee knew better. "He'll keep your hands full," she agreed, "and Jack's not even the worst of the bunch."

The mech scoffed. "Well, he's all yours again," he dismissed, turning back to his work. "Maybe now I can finally focus on fixing this thing and get out of here."

Because repainting the Jackhammer and building new stabilizers had been nothing short of crucial to get the ship 'back in order' she noted but didn't point it out.

"Well, would you mind a little more of a delay?"

He looked at her again, frowning. "What for?"

"Not much of one," she promised. "An hour … maybe less … I just need to get out of here for a while, but Optimus said I had to take someone with me."

He didn't have to know that the prime had specified who. The wrecker would either balk at being ordered, or worse … he'd never let her live it down that Optimus insisted they be together.

"Everyone else is powered down right now," she explained under Wheeljack's unnerving scrutiny. "Half an hour?" she offered. Primus, she just wanted to get out. Arcee was about to ask for just a run to town and back when the mech straightened.

"Yeah, sure," he waved it off. "We can stay out all night if you want. It's the least I owe you."

She crossed her servos over her chest defensively. "Wheeljack, you don't owe me slag. You're part of my team," she tried to explain without sounding flustered. He wouldn't meet her optics, so it was hard to tell if she was being convincing or not. "It's enough that you got me back to Ratchet in time."

"I did?" Now she had his attention. His brow rose. "Everything … works?"

"Far as I can tell," she said, shrugging.

But, the mech grinned. "Well, alright then! Let's get out of here and celebrate."

He nodded back to the Jackhammer, and the bay door began to lower. Arcee looked at it doubtfully.

"I just meant driving around Jasper for a while."

"Yeah …" he said sheepishly as he turned to face her again. "About that … Fowler sort of 'banned' me from driving around in town."

"What?!"

"And the rest of the county too."

"Wheeljack!" she snapped. "You didn't get Jack in trouble did you?!"

"What?! No! I don't know anything about street racing!"

"You did what?!"

"I'm a victim of circumstance! I swear!"

She could only glare at him in disbelief. Optimus didn't know or he wouldn't have wanted the wrecker to go out of the base with her. Arcee reigned in her temper for the moment though. Now more than ever, she needed to get out and drive. That wouldn't happen if she woke up Optimus to report Wheeljack.

"Pit," she swore to herself. "So, how did you get Jack to school and work?"

He grinned. "Magic." Touching the side of his helm made his colors reverse to green plating with red and white detailing. "I think the cops might be starting to suspect though," he confessed conspiratorially. "So, I'm glad you woke up more sooner than later."

What had Optimus and Ratchet been thinking? She rubbed her optics, shaking her head at her own desperation more than anything.

"You look like a Christmas tree," she deadpanned, turning on her heel to go find Ratchet.

"Hey! I thought it looked good for what I've got to work with," he defended before catching Arcee's shoulder.

She looked up at him and finally couldn't help but return his smile.

"Come on," he said, changing his paint back. "I know a great place to get our tires warm this time of night."

The femme still didn't move. She doubted Optimus had this in mind. Plus, something about the idea of getting on the wrecker's pride and joy alone didn't feel like it'd play out well.

"Arcee," he said consolingly. "You need to get out. I know how it feels when you come out of med-stasis."

Fine. She swallowed her doubts and followed him up the ramp, and she felt the lift begin to move. Arcee still had to make an effort to not look nervous. Tailgate didn't offer a little courage. Cliff jumper didn't even push a snide remark in her direction. Once again, she tried reaching out for them. Nothing.

"You alright?" Wheeljack's voice snapped her back to reality. He stood by one of the seats, watching her stare at the wall instead of the night sky coming into view out the windows and on the monitors.

"Yeah," she surrendered. "It just … feels like someone should be telling me I'm about to do something I'll regret."

He smiled at her and patted the other seat.

"You've been taking orders too long. Sit down; you'll be fine."

He sat to make room for her and began flipping switches and powering up monitors full of maps and readouts. The femme perched on the edge of the other seat, and the back adjusted to her size before she felt the magnetic hold grab onto her plating snugly.

"Relax," Wheeljack instructed. "I won't let you take advantage of me."

Arcee vented a sigh, leaning back into the chair.

"I changed my mind. I'd rather be back in stasis."

He chuckled over the sound of the vertical thrusters. "Too late now," he smiled before the lateral blast shoved her back against the seat.

* * *

It felt like a long flight. He'd turned off the maps on purpose, and she couldn't see past the clouds to recognize any landmarks. Arcee was sure they couldn't be in the states anymore. Optimus was going to be slagged.

She'd been still, watching the stars out the side and rear monitor. It was impossible to tell if the wrecker didn't want to force conversation on her or if he was lost in his own thoughts. When she stole a glance at him, she realized he did look tired like he'd claimed. Somehow, she doubted it was entirely because of his ship or Jack. When they got back, she'd make him get some recharge. Before she could mention it, the ship began to descend.

"You sure no one's around?"

"Positive. But, I'll set up some proximity alarms to make you feel better."

She followed him out of the cockpit, and he paused to slide back a panel in the narrow corridor, revealing a dark and spartan berth room. He stepped in enough to retrieve a blue cube of energon from a storage cabinet.

"Here. Top off," he said, putting it in her hands. "You'll want a full tank."

"I don't think we should be wasting energon, Wheeljack."

"It's my fuel. I'll do what I want with it," he proclaimed, taking another cube for himself.

She watched him drink it doubtfully, but finally sipped at her own. It didn't even take a third of it to satisfy her since Ratchet had understandably kept her energy levels up during the healing process. Wheeljack took the rest from her and emptied it as well.

Absently, she wondered about the rate at which the wrecker went through energon. He was the same size as Ratchet, but that wasn't really a good comparison since any medic could slow down their fuel consumption. Wheeljack was obviously a heavier frame, and he was accustomed to rigorous combat.

Out of habit, she tried to recall Cliff or Tailgate's stats. They'd been as easy to bring up as her own before, along with all of the accumulated tidbits of information on their strengths, weaknesses, fighting styles … Primus, after vorns of being with Tailgate, she could have recalled the mech's hydraulic sequences and fought like him – if she'd had the weight to make it effective. Arcee hadn't realized how often she'd referenced the data when fighting other mechs until now, when it was all gone.

They were gone – every part of them. It was just her own voice in her processor for the first time in vorns. It seemed so ridiculous, but Arcee didn't feel any relief. She felt alone.

"Arcee?"

She blinked at her peds and the floor. Wheeljack lowered himself to his knees and straightened the femme to face him, so he could lift her brow ridges and look in her optics."You sure you're okay? I think that hard restart messed with your processor or something."

The wrecker looked worried, and his energy field felt unabashedly concerned. Arcee opened hers up before she could catch herself, suddenly desperate to feel another presence. Surprised, she tried to just send him the usual confidence and irritation to mask it before pulling her field back in, but the look in Wheeljack's optics told her he'd felt her trying to reach him like she would have for her lost partners. The mech wisely chose not to mention it.

"Maybe we should take a rain check. I think Doc needs to look at you."

She vented a sigh. "I think you're right, but … just give me a few minutes. I've got to drive for a while, or I'm going to start frying circuits."

Wheeljack looked skeptical, but finally nodded. "Sure." He smiled. "I've got to burn off that little bit of overcharge anyway, or I'll never be able to power down when we get back."

He let her go almost reluctantly, and the back hatch opened behind him as he got back to his peds. Eager to get out of close quarters with him, Arcee led the way this time.

She looked around them, taking in the unfamiliar landscape. When the Jackhammer closed again, all the light that remained was unearthly blue moon and starlight. It seemed to make the white hard pan that stretched far beyond the horizon glow.

Arcee shivered inwardly. "What is it?"

"Just a little piece of Cybertronian paradise," he said behind her. "Well, besides having to wash all the salt out of your undercarriage later, at least."

She felt him step closer.

"I guess Team Prime doesn't have much time for exploring anything that doesn't involve energon on enemies."

She stepped away from him under the guise of looking around more.

"It's amazing." It _was_ amazing.

Arcee gave a short laugh of disbelief before finally transforming at a run and making for the horizon. It felt like it went on forever. No roads, no people, no potholes, no speed limits …

She disengaged her governor and the annoying mock-transmission. She yearned for her native two-wheeled form, but still, it was the most liberated the femme had felt since her sire had taken her to Velocitron.

Her spark throbbed as her engine reached its limit. She was aware of the energon coursing through her, and the inferior earth coolant began to feel hot as lead. But, Arcee pushed herself all the way up until the first warning began to light up her HUD. Cutting a long, sweeping arc in the white salt, she killed her engine and let the cold, dry air wash through her vents.

She slid to a stop where the white Lancia sat idling.

"Feel better?" he chuckled.

Instead of answering, the motorcycle gunned her engine, drifting in a tight circle, throwing up a rooster tail of white dust before letting her back tire catch and jerk her away from him again into the night. She heard his engine roar to life and saw him racing to catch up to her in the mirrors.

Arcee let him catch up to her, but punched it again at the last second, throwing herself around to face him and doing a neat little pirouette on her front tire with her momentum before her drive wheel hit the ground again spattering his grill with salt and racing away laughing.

"Hey!" he shouted after her. "Nobody likes a showoff!"

She chuckled to herself. His warrior frame and armor were too heavy to outdo a two wheeler. Without any restrictions, the only grounder on Earth that could give her a run for her money was Bumblebee.

Wheeljack the spoilsport broke away and circled back toward the Jackhammer. Arcee quickly turned around and sped after him, but he stopped a short distance from the ship and waited for her.

"You were right," she said as she rolled to a stop. "I did want full tank."

It would've been worse than disappointing to see this place and not be able to do everything a Cybertronian couldn't get away with anywhere else on Earth.

"Race you back to the ship?"

"Seriously?" she snickered, revving her engine with excitement. "It's only half a mile."

"Earth rules," he clarified, "since you cheated in North Dakota."

"I did not!"

"Right." He circled around behind her to take his place. "I get passed by motorcycles doing two hundred plus _all_ the time."

"You hardly ever drive on the road. You just haven't seen many."

"I've seen plenty of street legal two-wheelers – the internet's full of them."

"Pervert."

"Research," he corrected.

"Fine, fine. The math still says I can win it at this distance."

"Maybe," Wheeljack said, rocking on his axles casually. "But not by much. And, we're not racing in a vacuum. There are variables."

"Variables we'll both be dealing with," she pointed out.

"True. Care to make it interesting? The winner gets something he wants?"

She scoffed. "What if _she_ doesn't want anything from the loser?"

"What about bragging rights? And, you charitably agree to help me pop all of the dings out of my plating after Ratchet and Optimus get a hold of me."

"How about you owe me one?" she chuckled.

"Whatever you want." He grinned rakishly.

She'd have to think of something terrible.

"Let's do it," she said smugly, lining up with him.

Excitement tingled through her and she couldn't tell if it was hers or the mech's energy field.

"The taillight closest to us is on a timer. We go on the third blink."

One. Arcee tensed her drive train in anticipation.

Two. Wheeljack revved his engine against the brakes, making his chassis lurch.

Three.

Like she'd expected, it was a battle of acceleration versus speed. But it surprised her, when Wheeljack's extra weight gave him better grip on the dusty soil for an instant. Without the factor of operator terror in the equation, the Lancia could reach 100mph in about seven seconds. Arcee could get there in about five. But, by a quarter mile, she'd have barely a second's lead on him. She'd counted on that extra second, and too much wheelspin at the start ate up a sizable chunk of of it.

Scrap. This was what she got for being cocky.

She sped through her gears, gaining as much distance as she could on him, but he quickly reached his top speed as well – which was just a little more than her alt mode's and began closing the distance. Then, he was to her rear axle, creeping up beside her, to her front tire, to her front axle. The ship was within spitting distance.

"No, NO, NO!"

"Yes, yes, oh YES!" he bellowed triumphantly, flipping back to his bipedal mode in a victory pose.

Arcee refused to change back as he took a bow to his invisible audience. Primus, he'd be unlivable.

"Let's watch that again, just to be sure," he announced, producing a datapad from his subspace.

"Wheeljack …" she groaned.

"Fair's fair. You might've won, Arcee."

He brought up the Jackhammer's rear camera feed and rewound it to where he'd just nosed past her at the finish line.

"Pretty close. Want to see it again?"

"Only if you want to eat that thing," she warned, shifting back to her original form.

He laughed at her back and indignantly perked winglets when she turned to look for where the camera had been.

"Want to try again? Double or nothing." She felt him step close.

"Frag. You."

"Not quite what I had in mind, but if you're desperate for an excuse …"

"Don't," she bristled.

Wheeljack's face fell dramatically. "Just a kiss then?" he bartered. "That's all I wanted."

She forced hot air out of her vents in a huff, but looked back at him again. "That's it?"

"That's it," he promised, lowering himself to his knees and sitting back on his tires.

Arcee watched him as he shuttered his optics and bent forward for her expectantly. He must've instinctively known that she'd punch him in the face if he went as far as puckering up. She studied him long enough to make it feel awkward, and then a little longer for good measure and to see how serious he was. He was serious.

Finally, unable to stand it any more, the femme stepped close. Wheeljack's energy field heightened with awareness, but he didn't move. She bent close. He smelled like ozone and burnt metal, but somehow, it wasn't unpleasant. It was what she'd expected. Before she could convince herself of how not-bad-looking of a mech he was, Arcee smirked and pecked him on the cheek.

Wheeljack's brow furrowed and he opened one optic.

"What do I look like? Your grand-sire?"

"You didn't specify."

"Well, I want a real kiss," he specified.

"Too late now." She smiled.

"Come on. I won that race fair and square. I've earned a good one."

Arcee would be the first to admit he'd earned it ten times over before they'd even gotten on the ship, but she growled with annoyance to cover her unease. The last thing she needed was to get involved with another mech. The last thing Wheeljack needed – or wanted, she would've thought – was to be anchored to a femme like her.

"Please."

"Wheeljack," she said, shaking her head, "we shouldn't do this."

"Please."

Arcee vented a soft sigh, trying to meet his optics sternly.

"Please." He smirked.

"You're impossible."

"I pride myself on it."

Fine. She didn't want to waste all night arguing with him. Arcee bent to him again, bringing a hand up to trace the underside of his helm and behind his audio receptor. The mech's engine rumbled as he leaned into her touch then dipped to nuzzle into the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

"Thank you," she whispered, kissing his brow and the corner of his optic. "For everything."

He lifted his helm to meet her optics again, and she caught his mouth. Arcee felt Wheeljack's hands move to her hips. Her lips parted slightly, so she could tease his scar between her lip and glossa, and it made the mech straighten to his knees, excitement and arousal saturating his energy field.

She smiled into his kiss and brought her other hand up to his cheek. Primus. There was no denying it felt good. But, when he pulled her closer to his chest and spark, something about the gesture made her remember the other mechs that had made her feel that way, and it felt like her processor seized up when she couldn't find her connection to them.

Arcee jerked back out of his hands and almost fell on her aft in the salt.

Wheeljack looked at her with surprise and concern.

"Just … let's just head back," she said.

"Why?"

"Because, I need to see Ratchet. Remember?"

"I meant … why won't you let me get close to you?" Despite the turmoil in his energy field that Arcee knew she'd caused, his voice was remarkably calm.

"Because." Arcee hugged herself defensively. "It's not fair to either of us."

"Oh yeah?" he said dryly.

"Yes," she stated firmly. "Wheeljack … we both know I'm not the only femme left."

"Well, I don't think Arachnid would appreciate me exploring my options."

"You know what I mean."

"Arcee …" He tried to touch her again, but she sidestepped him stiffly. "I know what you're saying. But … you're the only femme _I_ care about."

She cared about him too. That was the problem.

"Can I see your datapad?"

"What?"

She held out a hand for it. The wrecker looked at her confused, but gave it to her. Arcee opened a world map and began typing coordinates.

"What's this?" he asked, looking at it when she handed it back.

"Payback. For the data cylinder, for watching Jack, for getting me back in time …" she explained as he brought them up individually. "Just some 'unaligned refugees' you might be interested in."

His brow rose. "Femmes?"

She chuckled knowingly. "Half my age, undamaged goods." She watched him scroll through the locations again with renewed interest. "Optimus wanted to keep them a secret – for obvious reasons, and like you said, they'd just be cannon fodder if they were exposed."

Wheeljack brought up one on the northern coast of Siberia and zoomed in. "Who's this one?"

Arcee stepped close again to look at the datapad and grinned at his choice.

"That one is … Cascade," she recalled. "Her creators had her evacuated by way of the cheapest bidder when the war got ugly. So, she spent a few hundred vorns as space garbage before her pod picked up on our signal by some miracle. She'd been in med school, but now she works with the arctic search and rescue."

Wheeljack smiled. "That explains why Doc didn't mention her."

"What?"

He chuckled at her surprise. "When I couldn't pull you out of stasis, Ratchet tried to bribe me into leaving. At least now I know he wasn't yanking my chain. But, I still don't want it," he concluded, swiping the data off the screen.

"But …"

"What good to me are a bunch of femmes that have never seen a fight and aren't half as beautiful as you are?"

Arcee felt her spark flutter in its chamber and realized she was staring at him dumbly – almost gaping. She finally shook her head and tried to smirk.

"I'm sure you'd think of something."

"I want you, Arcee."

She turned away from him again, half tempted to pick a direction and drive until she ran out of land or energon.

"Take me back to base, Wheeljack," she ordered sternly.

"Frag it all, stubborn femme!" he swore with a growl. "Am I not good enough for you?"

"I didn't say that!"

"Then why in the Pit are you torturing yourself?"

"What?! You don't know me!"

"The slag I don't. You cut yourself off. You don't want to get close to anyone. You've been alone so long, you've just accepted it as normal. Well, I'll be the first to tell you, it's not!" He vented a hot puff of exhaust. "It's not normal. And, isolating yourself even further isn't the solution. Trust me."

"But, I'm not alone now," she justified. "I have my team and Jack …"

"Maybe you're not alone in that sense, but why do you keep panicking when no one answers your call through your bond?" he pointed out. "You still want that part."

She didn't have an answer. Wheeljack's expression softened.

"You had them all fooled, didn't you? Any other femme would've broke down after a bond-break if they didn't have a surrogate. But you … you used Tailgate like a crutch to bypass any need for social interacting. That's the only way a femme could've made it that long alone."

Arcee winced inwardly at the memories. Unlike mechs, femmes were hard-wired to seek out the company of their own kind. It was the only fail safe after the Well went dark that ensured Cybertronians would proliferate. Usually, it meant that femmes were content keeping company with each other so they wouldn't have to deal with the obstinate mechs, but Arcee had had Tailgate – for better or worse. After he'd gone offline, there had definitely been a lot more 'worse' than 'better,' but she'd still had him with her.

"You make it sound like it was easy," she scoffed.

"Well, it didn't take long to get over Cliffjumper," he reasoned.

She felt her faceplate heat. "I'd only been with Cliff a few years. And, I had some help … sort of forced on me. It wasn't easy either – just hard in a different way."

Thankfully, Wheeljack didn't press any further on that matter.

"If those two cared about you like I do, they wouldn't have wanted you to honor their memory by being miserable."

"Once Ratchet defrags my memory, it'll be like I never bonded with them at all. It doesn't matter what they wanted anymore," she stated bluntly. "They'll just be offline."

"Well, thanks to you, I'm not offline, rusting in a parts bin right now. Can it matter what I want?"

She half laughed in disbelief.

"So, I'm finally getting my processor back in order, and you want me to jump right back into a bond with some … some …"

"Reckless, insubordinate, greaseball?" he offered with a smile. "No. Not at all." He shook his head at her. "I just want you to give me a fighting chance instead of flat-out denying me – _and _yourself."

Stunned, she just looked at him for a moment.

"I mean, you _will_ eventually have to submit to my charm and good looks but …"

Arcee smacked him with a clang. The mech laughed at her, shielding himself with a door panel.

"Just … just shut up and take me home," she sighed. "The sooner I'm fixed, the sooner you can bring me back here."

He grinned at her, and Arcee couldn't help return it a little.

"I want a rematch."


	8. Epilogue

IMPORTANT NOTE: This is completely separate from the sequel, 'Old Acquaintance s.' I just wanted to share some warm, fuzzy drabbling.

I wrote this before I knew how 'Little Femmes' was going to end. I was about to give up on the whole thing, and I was just going to write a couple fun paragraphs to get the juices flowing, and it just didn't stop coming. I figured it's a waste to not tag it onto the end. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

* * *

The war had left Earth, but Arcee had not.

At first, she hadn't wanted to leave Jack. She'd known he'd grow up fast, like humans do. Fowler had gotten him into a place called West Point, and he had matured into a capable soldier. She didn't care much for the mate he'd chosen. If pressed, she might have admitted it was because the human femme was too much like herself to get along with.

When they had welcomed their daughter, Arcee had been happy for them, but she'd made Jack move on with his life. She still cared for him and saw them often, but she had her own issues to deal with by then.

The other reason she'd stayed was because Ratchet had told Optimus to make the femme stay where it was safe. It was fine with her since her pride wouldn't have let her stay if she'd been given the option. At least, she wouldn't have before things had gotten complicated.

Arcee had sparked, and only Ratchet knew.

It was Wheeljack's fault – tormenting her with short little visits on repair leave for ridiculous injuries like scrapes and dents. What was she supposed to do when he warned her he might never be coming back, and he wanted to break their bond to save her the misery if he got offlined?

She'd suspected something was up when Ratchet had given him an unheard of three-day leave. Wheeljack had put on a good facade for her, but she'd known what was coming at the end. She knew the feeling in his energy field before he was getting ready to leave for something big.

Arcee wished she'd done it for Cliffjumper or for Tailgate, so she'd swallowed her doubts and fears for once and spent every day they'd had left together making doubly and triply sure the mech's code was set in her matrix.

It wasn't hard to hide it from her energy field early on. Even Ratchet wouldn't have picked up on it for several months if she hadn't told him.

She was glad the medic knew. It would not have been easy alone.

Arcee had requested he not tell Optimus so Optimus wouldn't accidentally tell Wheeljack. A part of her didn't want him to feel obligated to leave the fight for her, but a greater part of her wanted to spite the slag sucker for choosing to go and die a pit-damned hero instead of wanting to stay with her after all the scrap he'd fed her.

It'd been an easy pregnancy cycle at least. Ratchet said she had her health and strength to thank for that. On Cybertron, more pampered femmes had had it a lot worse. She just wished she could get her energy back. At best she felt about half-charged.

It took all of the willpower she had to roll out of her berth that morning – or was it afternoon – to go see Ratchet before the medic started calling her. It seemed after vorns of patching up Autobots' battle injuries, monitoring a new spark's healthy development was a welcome diversion for the medic.

Arcee stretched to pop a kink out of her strut then pulled up the door to the burmmed in munitions storehouse Jack and Agent Fowler had found for her. It was in a secluded and nearly forgotten corner of a several-thousand acre base. She followed an unkempt road for a few miles, unlocked the gate in a conveniently unmonitored section of fence and she was on her way.

Ratchet had needed a much larger base of operations so he could accommodate the injured Autobots that were sent back through the space bridge.

"Coming in," she said over the commlink.

"Just a minute," Ratchet came back quickly.

The femme sat idling irritably. Even though to the casual passerby, Sadie just looked like she'd pulled into a closed-up garage's parking lot to answer her cell phone. Arcee felt like everyone who looked immediately assumed Sadie was either too old or too afraid to ride a real motorcycle.

Not to mention she felt as big as a tractor in her new alt mode. Her sleek two-wheeled form had gotten too tight for her and too unstable according to the good doctor. Arcee wasn't about to take on some huge-afted retirement trike, but she'd had to settle for a very bare-bones Can-Am Spyder.

Now, her self image as well as the cold of the ice and snow were threatening to set her mood for the day.

"Ratchet, just hit the fragging button already," she called. "It's freezing out here."

She heard the motor kick on, and the door began to roll up. The garage only housed a cloaking device that disguised the ramp down to Ratchet's remote infirmary.

"Sorry," he said, not looking up from his monitor. "I keep telling you, I can just bridge you here."

Arcee transformed so she could shake her head and sit on one of the berths facing him.

"I'd rather drive," she explained. "It helps wake me up a little."

"The fatigue isn't getting better then?" he asked, coming to face her as he tapped a few codes into his built-in scanner.

"No. It's to the point I'm having to shut down every night like a human."

She sat still while he scanned her.

"Everything's still operating within normal limits," he said. "So, it's probably just your matrix making you conserve energy since it's getting down to the wire."

Just thinking about it made her feel drained.

"It wouldn't hurt if you had some higher-grade energon …" he began to suggest, but she waved it off.

"The chronometer says it's just a little over a day. I've made it this long."

Ratchet could have easily gotten high-grade energon from the medical supplies he was sent, but if high-grade started disappearing off of his inventory, someone smart might begin to suspect – someone like Optimus. Even if Wheeljack was gone, she didn't want the prime coddling her or treating her like carrying a spark was some courageous act of heroism.

Ratchet smirked. "Looks like everything's in place," he said, changing the subject and showing her the wireframe rendering on his arm's monitor.

She hadn't been able to make heads or tails of the images since the beginning, and she was a little jealous that Ratchet and his trained optic knew her sparkling better than she did.

"Its spark has settled into its chamber completely. All that's left is to sap all of the energon it can from its carrier and gather its strength."

He smiled reassuringly and offered a hand to pull her to her feet.

"So, I shouldn't pick any fights with Decepticons on the way home, you're saying?" She grinned.

"If you can avoid it."

There hadn't been a 'Con on Earth for close to six years.

"I guess if I don't make it back, I'll call you to come check on us – if the war can spare you for a minute," she said walking back toward the entrance.

"I'll make it make time," he promised.

The femme chuckled at the mental image and turned to go.

"Arcee?"

She looked back at him.

"If … if I find out that Wheeljack is still operational in the future … would you want him to know now?"

She thought about it a moment. "Why?"

"Well ..." he shrugged. "It's just that I've been hearing rumors that there might have been some prisoners at Dalzinus 17."

At last, the femme shook her head. "I knew what I was getting into. Wheeljack's the kind of mech that covets his freedom and wants to be in the fight. I told him the first night I wouldn't hold him down."

"Well, sometimes seeing a femme carrying one's spark can change a mech," he reasoned. "I know it would certainly straighten me out," he added sheepishly.

"Oh yeah?" she chuckled softly. "You into femmes the size of tanks? Wish I'd known that earlier."

"No, that's not what I meant!" he spluttered, shaking his head. "It's just … I mean …"

She smiled and stepped back to face him.

"I know what you mean," she assured, wrapping her arms around him.

The medic struggled with himself a moment longer than vented a sigh and returned the hug.

"You do know you haven't gotten much bigger," he tried to console. "I think it's made you look more mature than anything."

"If your definition of mature is cranky and exhausted – oh wait, I guess it is."

He chuckled and let her go. He was probably right. If she went by a mirror instead of how she felt, the rearrangement of her plating for her new alt mode had changed her appearance more than the swell of her abdomen cradled low in her hips.

"I'll keep my mouth shut," he promised. "Doctor-patient confidentiality."

Arcee smiled and hugged him again. Ratchet looked conflicted still.

"But, he'd want to know," he tried one more time.

"You think so?" she doubted.

"I know so."

She shrugged. "Well, if he shows up one day, he's going to find out," she explained. "But, if he doesn't want to come back, he doesn't need to know."

"So, if he comes back, I can tell him?"

"You can tell him where I'm at if he asks," she haggled.

"Fine."

Arcee snickered. "If it comes out white, maybe I still won't have to tell him," she suggested.

"Now, I put my foot down there," he said sternly and obviously flustered by the idea.

"I'm just kidding, Uncle Ratchet," she teased.

He huffed. "Good." But, he welcomed another hug and even kissed the top of her helm. "I'll come check on you in a few days if I don't hear from you."

She left the way she'd come instead of taking a ground bridge. It was snowing again, but she didn't care. It wasn't cold enough to worry about malfunctions. Lately, it seemed like her matrix made her run hotter anyway, so she welcomed the relief and took the long way home.

An incoming call came up on her HUD.

"Jack? I thought you were at work this time of day."

"I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing."

"Does Dee know you worry more about my pregnancy than you did for hers?"

"Dee's didn't last ten years," he reminded.

"Thank Primus for that," she muttered.

Human gestation was so volatile. Although, she had to admit, the tiny squishy offspring were almost cute enough to be worth it.

"Well, what did Ratchet say?" he pressed.

"I'm a model of carrier health, and I've got the green light to handle this – by myself," she emphasized.

"Are you sure you can't tell me what it is just a little early?"

"You've waited ten years, Jack. What's twenty four more hours?"

Arcee smiled to herself. She'd known her sparkling's gender since before it's spark had began to split from hers. It was something else she'd made Ratchet swear to secrecy. The humans were so impatient.

"You'll have to come see for yourself in a week or so."

"I promise I will. Miko's coming over too, if that's okay."

"No Raf?"

"Later. He's giving finals, but he wants to come."

"I figured. Just don't bring anything metal," she warned again. "It'll be hungry as a scraplet, and I don't want it filling up on a bunch of random junk."

"No party keg. Got it."

"Or buttons, zippers, jewelry, keys, cell phones …" She couldn't think of any more.

June had hassled Fowler into stockpiling trimmings and scrap of military-grade tungsten and titanium since its protoform had started to develop. Once it disconnected from her matrix, its metabolism would go into overdrive. There would only be a brief few months after delivery where it would be without its plating and lethargic from the transition.

"I'll talk to you later, Jack," she said. "I need to relax a bit and probably recharge."

"Alright," he chuckled. "Let me know if you need anything."

She _had_ been shut down all day, she realized with annoyance as the overcast sky began to darken. What was worse was she really could go for a cat nap like she'd told Jack.

Oh well. She took the valley road through the quiet white woods and along the river. It was far from Cybertron, but there were worse planets to raise a sparkling.

She made herself stay out past dark and awake, but before midnight, she was exhausted, cold, and angry from being stuck behind a salt truck. Arcee couldn't wait to get home, hose all of the brine off and curl up on her berth to savor her sparkling's content energy field one last night.

But, when she approached her bunker, she was shocked to see the door open a crack and light under it. Humans never came out here. The buildings were empty. The fighter in her wanted to reclaim her home, but if there was even a chance it was a Decepticon or some reincarnation of MECH, she couldn't risk it.

She summoned her old blaster and crept back toward the road, opening a commlink to Ratchet.

"Arcee?" he sounded surprised. "Are you alright?"

"I need a bridge," she whispered. "Someone's snooping around my bunker."

He was silent for a long moment.

"Ratchet?"

"I'm here. Sorry," he excused. "Did you not take the highway home?"

"What the frag does that matter?" she hissed.

"Hold on."

He sounded irritated. The line disconnected to her disbelief. "Ratchet?"

She hid at the sound of the door being pulled up.

"Arcee?"

Her spark froze. It couldn't be.

"Come on out. Doc snitched on you, so I know you're out here."

She didn't have long to think it over before Ratchet would send him the code for her tracking signal.

Agitated, she switched back to her alt and drove into the light of the bunker's door.

"Let me guess," she accused, "you were hiding at Ratchets."

"No. He space bridged me here a little while ago. What's with the fugly tricycle make-over?

She seethed in annoyance as he bent to look her over.

"What happened to you?"

"Could we talk about it face to face instead of face to angry high-beam?"

Arcee was stubbornly silent.

He sighed. "I got captured – like I knew I would. I just didn't think they'd hang on to my stasis pod. It was long enough for Prime to pull off a miracle."

"So, you just now woke up?"

"Well, no …" he confessed. "I came back right after I got out, but Ratchet said he didn't know where you were. I could tell he was lying … so I just assumed you were still pretty hot over me leaving."

"I was, but he never told me you came."

Wheeljack shrugged. "I told him not to. Figured it'd be better to just give you a few more years."

Arcee didn't think a few more decades would've been enough if she'd known that, but had she treated Wheeljack any better?

"So, he called you back today?"

"Said you really needed me," he said. "So, here I am."

Him and his fragging heroics, she thought angrily.

Too late now. Ratchet had painted her into a corner.

At last, she transformed and ducked into the bunker, past the dumbfounded mech.

"Well, come in and get out of the snow."

She closed the door behind his back.

"Arcee?"

She faced him, arms crossed over her chest.

"You … you're … how?"

The femme couldn't help but feel a little satisfied and smirked. She spread her arms, turned for him, and let them drop again.

"You said you were leaving and never coming back," she reminded. "I asked myself what I would've done if I'd had that much warning from Tailgate or Cliffjumper."

Wheeljack looked caged and uneasy. It made her spark sink, but she shook it off. Ratchet had been wrong this time.

"I told Ratchet to not tell you, but he pried it out of me today. I wish I'd stuck to my guns now."

"So, you didn't want me to come back?" he asked carefully.

Arcee tried to get angry. Part of her wanted to cut him deep and make him hurt for leaving, but the rest of her wanted something else entirely.

"Or course I wanted you to, but … I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't been ready to do it alone," she said levelly. "Go back to Ratchet. Tell him I didn't come out. You never saw me. I'll tell him the same," she planned out.

Wheeljack studied her a long moment. It made her plating feel uncomfortable, and she fought the urge to cover her growing sparkling.

"Sorry," he finally said, breaking the silence. "If I'd know what I was getting into, I would've had a speech or something ready."

Arcee grinned. "It was kind of dirty the way Ratchet did it," she agreed. "I didn't want to make you feel bad about it. You never knew."

He looked away and began pacing along the door. She could tell he was guarding his energy field and was avoiding coming close. She ignored it, retreating to the back of the small building where she could work on getting clean as she watched and waited for him to make up his mind.

"Wheeljack …" He met her optics again. "There isn't a right or wrong answer."

"I know what you're saying," he dismissed, "and what you're offering." He shook his head at himself. "To be honest, I'm a little insulted you put the idea in my processor."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

The mech's expression softened, and he vented a sigh. "I don't deserve it."

"Well, that's just your moronic opinion," she excused. "Too late now."

"I know. And, that's why I don't know what to tell you."

Frustrated, she just finished knocking off the worst of the salt. He watched her step close, and Arcee let her energy field go so she wouldn't have to explain how she felt scared, alone, and angry. But, at the same time he'd be able to feel that she was excited from it all and happy and relieved to see him.

Wheeljack relaxed, lowering himself to his knees for her.

She wished she could have suppressed her urgent hunger to get their bond reestablished, but it was a package deal. Arcee restrained herself to one sweet kiss and felt immense relief when the mech tried to pursue her when she broke away. She felt Wheeljack's own relief and knew he'd let his field go too.

As easy as that, it all made sense to them.

"I missed you," he whispered as he embraced the femme. "I'm sorry stasis let me get out of five years more than you went through. It made me miss a lot of things."

He brushed his fingertips against the side of her abdomen. Arcee pressed his hand against her completely and grinned up at him.

"You probably would've preferred stasis for most of it," she admitted. "But, poor Ratchet weathered out the worst of it with me whether I wanted him or not."

Wheeljack smiled. "So, I should be hugging him, you're saying?"

Arcee chuckled as he bent to nuzzle at her neck. It made her spark ache she craved him so much.

"If he'll let you," she said with a smile, kissing his audio receptor.

"Maybe tomorrow," he dismissed, his hands slipping behind her hips to pull her against him.

Not even half a year ago, Arcee would've hooked up with Megatron to scratch the itch and probably could have went until he begged for mercy. Now that she knew Wheeljack had come looking for her, it explained where Ratchet's willpower's last stand had come from after she'd synced up with him and gotten as far as his access panel. She probably would have shot him if he wasn't her sparkling's doctor.

Wheeljack was very aware of the return of just a fraction of that old hunger, but now Arcee was a little more in control of her emotions.

"Maybe we could wait a day?" she suggested.

His mouth stilled, and he withdrew to look down at her. "Huh?" Why?"

"For one, I feel as big as a backhoe. I'll be back to my old self tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!"

She kissed his jaw. "Why did you think Ratchet called you now?" she smiled.

"A couple days to let the news sink in would've been a nice courtesy."

"Secondly," she continued, ignoring his protests, "I'm fighting to keep my optics on."

"But, I won't have you to myself by then," he sulked.

Arcee snickered and tugged free of him to walk back to her berth. She turned the lights down to a low ambiance.

"So, are you staying or going?" she asked.

He knew that she wasn't just referring to staying the night, but he shrugged and stepped away from the door.

"Recharging on a medical berth still gives me nightmares," he excused, slipping his hand around hers.

It felt amazing to be lying between the mech and the wall again. The sparkling even felt the difference in her energy field and fluttered with anticipation. Wheeljack rested his hand over it, and she felt his mouth at the nape of her neck. For a few moments she felt completely relaxed.

His hand slid to the open joint of her hip to tickle the sensitive juncture, and his mouth moved to a lax winglet. She shivered, her spark burning for more, but she rolled over to face him and deny him access.

"If you're not going to recharge …" she tried to scold, but couldn't help smiling as he pulled her closer.

Arcee surrendered a kiss then another, then he was teasing her glossa with is lips.

"Wheeljack!"

She made herself pull away.

"Arcee, guess what," he whispered.

"What?" she sighed.

"I'm not tired." He grinned at her when she sat up. "But, I know a quick way to get me to power down."

He sat up with her.

"No," she said firmly but didn't resist when he caught her mouth again.

His hands found her waist and shifted her to his lap. Arcee brought her hands to his face to pull him to her more firmly.

"I mean it," she panted when he let her go in order to redirect her hands to the tips of his wing fins. He gave an unsteady laugh as she caressed them.

"Isn't it supposed to be easier for you if you're with the mech you've bonded to?" he reasoned when he found his voice again.

"One screw is not going to bond us," she chided.

"Well no, but we've got all night."

Arcee forgot she was tired and sparked.

* * *

She woke up from what felt like stasis, tucked halfway under Wheeljack, listening to the familiar sound of solenoids clicking through his recharge cycle. It wasn't as strong a bond as they'd broken, but he'd made an admirable effort for one night.

The sparkling shifted and rolled. She needed energon to replace what it had taken during her recharge.

The mech didn't wake when she slipped free.

Ratchet had insisted she take one cube of high-grade for this day at least, so she savored it. Arcee had planned to deliver her sparkling here for a decade, but she hadn't been prepared for Wheeljack to be here.

She looked out a window in the door. The snow had gotten deep overnight, and it was still coming down heavily. Arcee doubted she would be able to find another place in … forty five minutes?! Primus. How long had she slept?

Her commlink announced Ratchet was calling. He must have been waiting for her to power up. Kind of creepy, but she dismissed it.

"Yeah?"

"Arcee, is Wheeljack with you?"

"Nope. I offlined him," she shrugged.

"I wouldn't have been surprised," the medic admitted. "Sorry for all the secrecy, but you two are just impossible."

"Your spark was in the right place, but I hadn't planned on Wheeljack being here. Bickering with him while I'm trying to deliver will not end well."

"I can send a ground bridge if you'd like, but having him moping around here won't be any better."

"For you, maybe," she scoffed.

"Maybe I could trade him places. I've done this enough to know the femme is better company than the mech."

She smiled. "I'll manage. Talk to you tomorrow."

She turned it off so there wouldn't be half a dozen humans trying to check on her and returned to her energon. It tasted warm and tingly and made her shiver. Good thing the sparkling would be gone by the time it cycled through her system.

Arcee sat beside Wheeljack and tried to enjoy the peace and quiet until her matrix's clock finally ticked over. Her HUD felt strangely empty after ten years of the constant display.

She hadn't known what to expect when it hit zero, but more waiting wasn't what she'd planned on.

Her back ached from sitting so long. She considered laying down again, but the energon was making her restless. Besides, getting up again would just be a chore. So, Arcee paced.

Moving felt good, but it didn't help her back, only made it hurt in a different way, and the room was beginning to feel confined and hot enough to kick her fans on. Anxiety and aggravation escalated to borderline claustrophobia.

Why was this taking so long? She wanted out of here in the cool air, on the road going as fast as she could. Just the thought made her plating shift with want for transformation and speed.

There was time. This process was taking too long anyway. Maybe she could drive to Ratchet's and make sure nothing was wrong.

Arcee slipped out quietly. She'd be back before Wheeljack powered up. Primus. No more high-grade for her if this was what it caused, she thought, practically jogging to the road. Thankfully, it had been cleared of snow, and when she finally got her wheels on the ground, the transformation felt like it had let all of the pressure out.

It was still so hot though – like her coolant wasn't moving. Desperate for relief, she took the road through the bottom lands where it was straight and flatter for more miles than it wasn't. It felt good, but it wasn't cool enough. Something was wrong.

"Ratchet!" She opened a commlink without waiting for him to answer.

"Arcee? Where are you?"

"I …" She looked around at her surroundings and didn't know. How far from home was she? She checked her HUD and was surprised to find she was pushing 100mph. "I don't know."

She tried to do the math, but she didn't know how long she'd been driving.

"I'm overheating," Arcee said urgently. "Something was wrong with that energon!"

"Calm down," Ratchet coaxed. "I found your signal. You need to get on the interstate a couple miles southwest of you."

"And come back to you?"

"No," he stated. "Nothing's wrong unless you're getting any warnings."

Arcee realized she wasn't.

"Every femme does this a little different, so I didn't know what to tell you to expect."

"Then why are you telling me to get on the highway?"

"Because you have to do what feels right. If speed's what you're craving, then you need to go faster."

"And deliver on the interstate with every state trooper in the county around me?!" she snapped.

"I'm contacting Agent Fowler now," he explained. "Improvise."

Improvise!

At least it was the middle of the day, and the snow was keeping most of the people who weren't at work off the roads. Arcee hit the on-ramp already well over the 70mph limit. Weaving through traffic felt surreal – like the rest of the universe was standing still. If it wasn't for the urgency in her sparkling's energy field, it would've been the best she'd felt since fighting the last 'Cons.

She'd just passed out of dangerous and into reckless speeds when she saw the first flash of red and blue in her mirrors. So much for her perfect driving record.

"Catch me if you can," she said to herself.

Her alt mode's speedometer was already snug against the needle at 200mph. But, at least she was cool and relaxed. She could've gone for hours like this. Then, the first real pain nearly threw her off balance. Arcee panicked. There were three sets of lights behind her, and two more were cutting across the median ahead of her from the westbound lane.

Scrap. Couldn't they just leave her alone? The police would cause an accident trying to chase her before Arcee would do any harm. The ones ahead were going to try blocking the road. Stupid. They were going to cause a pileup.

She didn't know if she could recover if she went off into the snow. But, just as she considered slowing down, something faster than her roared past. Arcee recognized that ugly white aft anywhere.

"Fowler's up ahead," Wheeljack said, cutting in front of her. "These guys just haven't gotten the message. You alright?"

"No," she admitted.

The barricade didn't feel up to playing chicken with Wheeljack, but he still clipped both cars before they could get out of the road.

Arcee steadied her wheels through another wave of pain as unused hydraulics ached to life. Thank Primus Ratchet told her to pick a three-wheeled alt mode.

"Arcee?"

"Keep going," she said quickly.

"You just pick an exit whenever you're ready. Fowler will block it off, and Ratchet will bridge you home."

She resisted the impulse to pull of immediately since driving was probably helping. But, it wasn't many more exits before her engine cut out.

Wheeljack slowed to let her coast ahead, and he pushed her up and off-ramp where army helicopters where blocking traffic a mile on either side of a ground bridge.

Arcee expected the heat to come back right away, but all she felt was exhaustion and constant pain. She'd waited too long, she thought, struggling to shift back to her true form.

"Hey! Let's get through the bridge first."

Wheeljack transformed to take her under the arms, but he had to pause to let her purge what was left of the high-grade in her tanks.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"Are you kidding? I'm so turned on right now," she heard him smile.

"Come on people!" Fowler ordered. "Let's move it before the new choppers get here!"

Arcee got her feet under her, but another sharp wave of pain made her head spin unsteadily. Wheeljack scooped her up, and the sky swirled above her into the ceiling of Ratchet's infirmary.

"She's fine," Ratchet assured. "Just put her down."

The femme sat up before he could finish scanning her, panting through her fans and extending her winglets to try to catch more air as the pain peaked.

"Can you get another bridge going?" Wheeljack suggested.

"There's no time," the medic explained hurriedly, giving her a cylinder of energon directly. "It's already coming."

Wheeljack wrapped her arm around his neck, and she felt his energy field, warm with worry and concern but also excitement and pride.

She jumped feeling Ratchet's hands against her.

"Stay still," he grumbled. "There's the problem …"

Arcee felt a sharp pain tighten then quickly dull as the hydraulic let go. She gasped at the flood of relief and her free hand caught Ratchet's shoulder plating so she wouldn't strangle Wheeljack.

"Almost there," the medic promised.

Arcee hadn't realized she was still in pain until it was suddenly gone, and she very nearly went into shut down with relief.

"Stay awake," Wheeljack teased in her audio.

Ratchet pried her fingers off of him so he could put it in her arm.

Finally.

Arcee slumped against her mate.

"Blue and white, huh?" You sure Smokescreen's not been visiting?"

She smacked the back of his helm with a clang.

"He doesn't look anything like Smokescreen!" she snapped weakly. "Primus, he barely looks like me."

She should have guessed Wheeljack's coding would override hers. At least the blue optics that tired to focus on her face were like hers, only lacking her lavender irises.

Wheeljack touched the tip of his finger to the back of a tiny hand that was clasping Arcee's bracer. A hard blue ridge of plating was barely beginning to show through it's dark gray protoform. So many other buds and ridges were white instead.

The sparkling's head lolled to face his mother's familiar energy field.

"Well, I'm glad you guys let me in on your secret," Wheeljack whispered. "If I'd denied having kids, any mech that saw him would've hunted me down and beat the sludge out of my engine."

Arcee smirked, freeing her other arm to cradle her son. She'd worried she wouldn't know what to feel or do, but she was glad to be wrong.

"I need to get him home," she said.

She kissed the warm blue ridge that would develop into a helm over the next few years.

"I hardly have anything in my modifier for him."

He didn't know what hunger was yet, but she could feel it in his otherwise tired and content energy field.

Wheeljack watched her walk to the ground bridge and look back at him expectantly. He vented a pained sigh and met Ratchet's optics. The medic looked up from his best attempt at blending into the background.

"Are you sending another bridge for me in a few hours?"

Ratchet frowned but shook his head. "I can probably come up with something that would require extending you leave for another forty eight hours," he reasoned. "But, more than that will require some convincing physical damage."

fin

Thank you to everyone who stuck with me on this. Your reviews and praise kept me going.


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